Thursday, September 4, 2008

You WISH I was drunk driving!!

I'm a horrible driver. There's really no two ways to put it - I just don't do it very well. I've had the same car since slightly before I turned 30 and I still don't really know where I am in it.

I use my bumpers like cats use their whiskers, figuring out where I am and whether my head fits through the hole. Ok, that analogy sucked. (but it was better than me bitching about my job so shut up readers)

I've had cars driving by, watching me parallel park, and actually roll down their windows to heckle me. One guy held up traffic, cheering me on (I'd assume ironically) as I shifted from reverse to forward about 45 times. He drove on, cackling. I get out of the car to investigate my handiwork, and my wheels are 3 feet from the curb. I decided I didn't need to be at that engagement party after all, and went home. 

This is why I valet park most of the time. It's also why there might just be a God - the first date I drove Andrea to I had to parallel park, and like a pitcher hitting a home run, I nailed it. I passed it off nonchalantly. "Oh I do this sort of thing all the time, I live in the city!" That lie held up six weeks because I only took her to extremely busy places and pretended the valet was for EXTRA ROMANCE!

About 3 months ago, pulling into my garage for the umpteenth time, I scraped the shit out of the passenger side door on the edge of the garage. It would have been less embarassing to get caught masturbating - there's really no way around the fact that I suck at something I've been doing for 17 years. It's not something you can easily cover up, either; the side of the garage door is bent in ways it wasn't the day prior, and there's brown paint all along the wheel well where the Mitsubishi got intimate with said door.

Naturally, this crappy skill-set causes me to massively overcompensate behind the wheel. I'm hyper-aggressive, drive too fast, and think everyone on the road is Very Bad At Driving. But today, bless his heart, some asshole decided to show me that there ARE people that are worse than me at overcompensating!

It's a rainy day in Chicago. I'm a few minutes late for work. I pull up to the light at Western and Montrose. Western is a pretty standard four lane road, and I'm in the right-most lane. Lo and behold, Brilliant Driver #2 pulls up beside me on my right, in the right-turn lane. BD #2 had a very nice car, and as the cross-light turns yellow, he begins creeping forward to do one of the douchiest moves ever, trying to shoot in front of me, jumping the line. NOT TODAY MOTHER FUCKER!
I shoot forward too. He starts to cut over, I stare him down, pedal to the floor. He glances at the side of my car, and there's this moment of utter clarity where he sees all the damage down the side of my car, and realizes he is Custer to my Little Big Horn.

Because I don't care. . . he hits me and the damage I was too embarassed to report to the insurance company is covered up in wonderful "I'm not at fault" sideswipes.

Thank you, Bad Driver #2, for making Bad Driver #1 a winner this morning.
It almost makes up for the Cubs falling apart slightly ahead of schedule.

Also, this is unrelated, but we've totally got The King in our wedding music.
"I like you, Clarence. Always have. Always will."

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