I’ve been married for a long time, 33 years to be exact. Carey and I got married young. And as required by the Catholic church, we attended pre-Cana classes. Led by a priest and other married couples, these encourage you to talk about important issues —things like money, future children and family. The first two were easy: we had no money and we both wanted kids. Family, however, was a problem. His didn’t like me, and mine embraced him in a kind of ‘finally we get to unload her’ way.
In the classes, we also talked about our annoyances. Mine was Carey’s driving. I assumed the priest would want to spend some time exploring Carey’s family’s relationship with me —why they disapproved of a catch like me, and what I could do to fix that. You know, to make sure we’d have a ‘Walton Christmas.’ But no, he wanted to talk about Carey’s driving. What didn’t I like? Why did Carey drive this way? So much time on Carey’s driving and so little time on his family —it perplexed us both.
Let me just say, the priest was right. For 33 years, I have screamed, gasped and slammed on the passenger-side fake brake as Carey has driven like a maniac across the country. Sometimes, I will make one of my kids sit in the front seat (yeah, I know) so I can be in the back and not see what’s ahead of me. Our fights almost always start in the car.
So when we decided to drive from St. Louis to the Florida Keys with our two dogs, I knew I had to figure out a coping mechanism that did not include constant gasping, swearing or Xanax. I decided instead to use those 20 hours to make some observations from the highway.
First: Why, oh, why do people feel it’s necessary to be in the left lane while they are texting? Or better yet, why do people feel the need to drive and text? What is so bloody important as you drive your blue Jeep Cherokee with Georgia plates at 80 mph down I-75 that it can’t wait? Need to tell them you are on your way? Checking the scores of a game? Reading an article on Politico? Whatever, get off your phone!
Second: With all the social media available, why do people still feel the need to write on bathroom walls? Seriously. I don’t care that you were ‘here,’ nor do I care that you love Johnny. Chances are by the time I read your heart-shaped message, you won’t love him anymore, so stop it! And who carries Sharpies in their purse? I guess people who write on bathroom walls.
Third: How do billboards with spelling and grammar errors actually get put up? Isn’t there some sort of copy editor for signs who reads them and says, ‘Oops, that’s wrong!’? I haven’t seen this many needless apostrophes since junior high.
Whoa, I just reread this and I sure sound shrill. But you know what? I made it safe and sound to the Florida Keys with only a few gasps. So my husband thanks you for coming along on our 1,300-mile journey. My mind was so occupied I didn’t slam on the fake brakes once.
Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.
