My previous post about using the Dog Whisperer technique on my husband as he tries to TELL ME HOW TO DRIVE (grrrr) got me reminiscing.
I'm from one of the big square states out west. When I was a teenager back in the 70's, my dad was a merchandiser for a retail chain that had stores in many towns in that big square state. If you have ever visited a big square state in the western U.S., you know that there is more land than people, and there is quite a lot of open space in-between towns. My dad was on the road constantly, visiting these oh-so-far-apart town that his stores were in. He logged a LOT of miles.
He had countless stories of adventures and mishaps on the road. Several times he ran out of gas...and always, it seemed, just at the top of a hill, with a gas station at the bottom. Dad would coast on down the hill and into the gas station. He was a legend in our family.
With dad gone so much, my mom originally tried to teach me how to drive. She went out with me just one time. I had her nerves so jingle-jangled, when we got home she informed my dad that it was now HIS job to teach me.
Enter my dad - Driver Extraordinaire.
The first lesson he taught me was immediate. When I backed out of our driveway into our relatively busy street, me being pokey and slow and insecure in my new driving skills, blocking traffic from both directions....he would yell, "Kick 'er in the ass! Kick 'er in the ass! We gotta get outta the way!"
Ironically, now when I drive with dear husband, I hear "Slow down! It's not a race!"
Men. Seems like you can never make 'em happy.