Driving in Cars with Bill

Several times a year, Bill and I make the drive to Ohio to visit family. It takes a whole day, and Bill does all the driving. He’s not a good passenger, and he’s in love with his 300C. I just take a Dramamine and spend the day reading, napping, eating, and demanding rest stops. We spend a week visiting, stuffing our faces with my sisters-in-law's great cooking, and embarrassing our three nieces. We then haul our fattened asses back in the car, along with a cooler of the delicious food we have scored, and drive home to recover.

Now, the truth must be told about Bill: This totally laid-back man, who has only rarely raised his voice to me in 30 years, becomes a different person behind the wheel of a car. Mild-mannered Bill transforms into The Cursing Crusader of Cruise Control, The Mad Marauder of Momentum, The Dark Defender of Daring Drivers. And he is not quiet about it. Woe to the motorist that makes him hit the brake when his cruise control is on. 

Most annoying to him are the semis that pass each other going only two miles per hour faster than the truck they’re trying to outpace. On a two-lane highway, this earns them an Italian witch’s curse. A close second is the inconsistent-speed driver. Slow on the uphill, fast on the down. They're very difficult to pass, as they speed up when you pull next to them. Use your cruise control, people. Save the planet. And my sanity.

It’s not that I disagree with him. I do plenty of highway driving, and I know the drill. But ten hours of sporadic outbursts will eventually start getting on your nerves. On a recent trip, I decided to document some of them. Most of the time, I don’t respond. Other times, the temptation is too great.  Here’s a sampling of comments that go beyond a short, barked curse of “Idiot!”  “Shit!” or “Madón!” (Italian plea to the mother of Jesus to spare him.) They start out pretty benign and escalate as the day wears on.

Bill, sarcastically, behind a slow driver:  “Guess we don’t have to worry about getting a speeding ticket.”

Yvonne, equally sarcastically:  “Well, that’s a very glass-half-full way of thinking, Bill.”

Bill: “That guy’s annoying me.”  The driver on the right keeps pace with us as we’re trying to pass. 

Yvonne: “I’m quite sure that was his goal for the day.”

Bill: “Why is this truck in the left lane?  He’s not even going the speed limit!”

Yvonne: “Perhaps he didn’t get the memo that it’s a suggested minimum for the right lane only.”

Bill: “If you’re going to do that, at least accelerate!” A car has pulled out from behind a semi right into our path, causing the dreaded brake tap.

Yvonne: “I’ll assume the ‘asshole’ is implied.”

Bill, jerking the steering wheel: “Jeez!  Is that idiot drifting? Did you see that?”  The car to the right swerved, spooked by a merging semi.

Yvonne, grabbing the dash: “I think the guy on your left is wondering the same thing!”

Bill: “You son of a bitch!” as a truck with a trailer suddenly pulls out into the fast lane in front of us. “You could see that student driver for miles!”

Yvonne: “I’m sure if he knew that a far superior driver was behind him, he would, in deference, remove himself from your path.”

Bill: “The lady behind us is in a hurry.  Why doesn’t she get in the fast lane?”

Yvonne: “Perhaps she has her cruise on and is riding your ass in hopes you’ll go faster, so she doesn’t have to tap her brake. Just because it hasn’t worked for you, doesn’t mean it won’t work for her.”

There’s a slow truck in the left lane:

 “Asshole!” Bill yells, jerking the car to the right and gunning the engine to pass.

Yvonne: “I’m sure you’re angry burning of expensive gasoline showed him the error of his ways.”

Bill: “Well, it made ME feel better.”

Behind a car going downhill:

Bill: “Why is this guy putting on his brakes? We’re cruising down this hill 10 mph below the speed limit!”

When this reprobate turned onto the same road as we, Bill gunned the engine and shot past him. 

Yvonne:  “Another victory for the oil companies.”

Bill: “Wow, it’s 70!  That guy was REALLY poking! They must have raised the speed limit. Do you remember it being 70 here?”

Yvonne:  “I don’t remember. But that’s good – we’ll make it to the rest stop quicker.”

So, that’s the first hour. Fortunately, motion sickness medication leaves me too drowsy to scream at Bill or beat him about the head. Sighing, I just go to my happy place and leave him to his outbursts.