I Call Shotgun

I hate to drive. 

I guess in the beginning, at 16, I liked driving because it symbolized freedom to me. I was lucky because my father was an insurance agent and he seemed to know of an endless supply of crap cars for me to "drive until they die". 

I had a car in college that I drove my friends around in. I had some good times behind the wheel. I went to undergraduate in Erie PA, right on Lake Erie. There was always snow. A lot of snow. Before the plows came, some of the frat guys I knew would elect to go   "bumper riding" on my car. This was where they would hang on to the bumper of my car and I would drive them through the snow banks. I'm still not sure why they wanted to do this. But I was willing to pull them behind the car as long as they could hang on. 

When I moved to Virginia, all the crap cars got old. I had I was leaving pieces of cars and whole cars all over the place. It seemed I spent more time bumming rides, walking and riding my bike than I did driving an actual car. 

But, believe it or not, crappy cars were the least of my problems. Questionable direction sense is the real problem. I am the person who gets lost even with the GPS system telling me where to go. It always seems like it's not actually time to turn until it's too late! 

I find myself yelling at the map in the car, "Now?! Turn now?!" 

I have to take the same route everywhere I go. I am unable to deviate. Shortcuts are not my friend. 

Just the other day I made the executive decision to go around Washington Liberty high school because school was dismissing. I thought, "Just go around the block, how hard can it be?" 

First, I ended up in a parking lot. Then, I was in a neighborhood I couldn't get out of - I drove around that neighborhood for at least 5 minutes trying to figure out where I was in relation to where I wanted to be. Finally I found Quincy! And then I realized I had ended up exactly where I started.

I hate driving