When Michelle and I go somewhere in our car, I always drive.
We don't discuss this ahead of time: I just automatically go to the driver's side, and she automatically goes to the passenger side. During the trip I operate the car and she operates the radio, unless the Isley Brothers' version of "Twist and Shout" comes on, in which case it is my legal responsibility to crank the volume up to 17,000 so I can help the Isley Brothers out with the high harmonies.
For her part, Michelle leaves the driving entirely up to me unless she thinks I'm about to hit something — which for the record I am not — in which case she will warn me by saying something like, "You DO see the truck, right?" After a certain number (two) of these warnings I will indicate to Michelle, by using a Tone of Voice, that I do NOT NEED ANY DRIVING HELP THANK YOU. For the rest of the trip the car will be tensely silent, except for the radio and the sound of Michelle audibly not saying anything when she thinks I am once again about to hit something, WHICH I AM NOT.
I happen to think I'm a pretty good driver. I would describe myself as above average. Of course I mostly drive in Miami, where the average driver does not know the traffic laws at all and is only vaguely familiar with the laws of physics. A reasonably alert tapeworm would be an above-average driver in Miami.
Still, I believe I'm competent behind the wheel. But I'm pretty sure Michelle thinks she's a better driver than I am. I say this because of subtle hints she'll drop when I'm driving, such as: "Would you like me to drive?" And: "I don't mind driving, really." And: "I'm a better driver than you are."
The thing is, I think Michelle may be right. She definitely has a better sense of direction than I do. More than once, when I was driving, we've had an exchange like this:
ME (panicking): Which way do I go here?
MICHELLE (pointing): That way.
ME: Are you sure?
MICHELLE: Yes. We're still in our driveway.
OK, I'm not that bad. But Michelle is definitely better with directions, and I think it's quite possible that she is, overall, a better driver than I am. Yet I'm always the one who drives. Why is this?
I think it's partly because of my upbringing. When I was growing up, our family vacations always involved long car trips, and I don't recall my father ever once turning the wheel over to my mother. In fact, thinking back on it, I don't recall my father ever actually getting out of the car, even after we reached our destination. I think it's possible he remained behind the wheel, day and night, for the entire vacation, vigilantly guarding against the danger that my mother might somehow sneak in there and attempt to operate the car.
And it's not just my family. Statistics show that among heterosexual couples, men are much more likely to be the main drivers, even though men are also statistically much more likely to be idiots. This has been true throughout history: Whatever the mode of transportation — be it covered wagon, or steam locomotive, or ocean liner — we men have traditionally believed that our job is to drive it, and the role of women is to be passengers ("You DO see the iceberg, right?").
Even in the Bible, men do the driving. Really. If you search for "driving" in the King James Bible, which is on the Internet, there's only one reference that involves a vehicle. This is in the Old Testament, specifically the second book of Kings, chapter 9, verse 20. The vehicle is a chariot, and the driver is King Jehu, a man. Apparently he was an aggressive driver. The King James Bible says that he, quote, "driveth furiously." The New International Version of the Bible is more blunt: It says (really) that Jehu drove "like a crazy person.”
So the Bible is suggesting that Jehu was maybe not the best driver. But note what the Bible does not say. It does not, after stating that Jehu "driveth furiously," add "therefore he did pulleth over to the curb, and he did letteth his wife, Michelle, taketh the wheel."
Thus even the Bible, as I interpret it — and bear in mind, I was an English major — seems to be telling us that men are supposed to drive. And that has always been my belief.
But lately I'm starting to question it. For years I've made fun of old guys — Florida is full of them — who insist on driving long past the point where they obviously should have stopped. Many times I've told the abolutely true story of the elderly Miami motorist who was stopped by police because he was driving his Chevrolet Cobalt on a main runway at Miami International Airport.
But here's the thing: That hapless, laughable elderly man, that clueless geezer whom I've been ridiculing for so long, was 73 years old.
I'm five years older than that.
Yes. I've been driving since approximately the French and Indian War. Maybe the time has come for me to stop automatically going to the driver's side. Maybe I need to swallow my masculine pride and give up the wheel.
Or maybe not! As I say, I'm still above average, at least for Miami. I still get around OK. And on those occasions when I might need a little help, I usually have Michelle sitting right next to me, keeping an eye out for trouble. ("You DO see the Boeing 737, right?")
OK, it's time now to hear from you paying subscribers, all of whom are of course far above average. Today we have four polls:
My grandfather died quietly in his sleep. The passengers in his car died screaming and crying, however.
I’m 60 (and a guy of the male gender) and when I bought a new convertible 2 years ago I made sure it had a back up camera and rear cross traffic warning so I wouldn’t get into trouble backing out of a parking space at the grocery store where everyone drives like a native Miamian. I also got blind spot warning and lane keeping assist so that I won’t change lanes into a spot that someone else is already in. The car also has adaptive cruise control so that I don’t rear end the guy in front of me.
Man, I wish everyone had those things. When I rode motorcycles I assumed that everyone in a car or truck was one or more of blind, drunk, stoned, or stupid. I was rarely disappointed.