On the Road Again
My friend, Nancy, of Not Quite Old, just wrote another of her hilarious posts. This one was about sacrificing her own time to do something with her husband; something he loves. If you haven’t already found her blog I personally guarantee it will make you laugh out loud.
Anyway, Nancy was the inspiration to relate my own huge sacrifice, which I make at least once a year for the sake of marital bliss (and for stocking up on spousal IOU’s).
What is this Supreme Sacrifice?
Getting in a car with Bill when the destination route is untried and unfamiliar.
Together we set off to explore uncharted highways and byways, but even an unexplored side street will qualify.
“What fun,” you say, “you must have an adventuresome marriage!”
Well, maybe not.
I think Bill thinks he wants to explore new places and discover new destinations and see the world. And he thinks he will be able to accomplish this in our car. And he thinks he will know how to get wherever he is going. “No problem Babe. It will be fun!” However, I know he is practicing the art of self deception and dragging me along with him down the rabbit hole.
Hope Springs
We begin each journey with good intentions and hearts filled with good cheer and high hopes for a happy outcome. After many years of marriage, however, I do have some mild concerns and downright jitters.
Sometimes I even break out in a rash.
My hero, Bill, is always the driver. He is a wonderful driver.
There is only one problem though.
My hero gets LOST!
And he does not get lost like normal heroes get lost.
Sometimes he can actually see where he is going, but he still can’t get there.
Other times, he is lost in a parking lot and goes around in circles, grumbling all the way.
He is even lost on routes once taken, like would you believe yesterday?
He inevitably overshoots turnoffs and winds up driving quite out of the way to make U-turns.
The grumbling escalates and he eventually resorts to profanity to help him find his way. (Note: this means I am failing in my assigned duties to navigate).
To prevent the escalation of frustration, I say yell, “NO, TURN LEFT!”
but he inevitably turns Right.
Then I say yell, “NO, STAY IN THIS LANE,”
but he is drifting onto an off ramp and hollering,
“SH–!&$%Xx!@o!”
Ask directions? Ha!
Maps? Ha! Ha!
“Don’t you have a GPS system or a smart phone?” you ask.
Of course we have a GPS system and it helps occasionally with astute concentration on my part. And we even have a smart phone! But Bill is still always LOST, especially if I get complacent and file a nail or read something, or “heaven forbid” relax, even for a second. Because when I look up, we are miraculously in unintended territory, and there are frustrated cries from the driver’s seat.
The Navigator
They say phobias begin when you are young. When I was a girl and we went on family trips, my Dad appointed me The Navigator. This great honor created anxiety in the effort to please.
Now, when entering a car with Bill, I am once again transformed into the Travel Leader, the Spirit Guide, the Person in Charge – ugghh – The Navigator! Once again, I must get us where we are going and return us to familiar roads leading home, or back to the motel, or wherever it is we can disembark and feel safe again.
This is my durned duty.
And this is my ultimate sacrifice for marital bliss.
The enormity of the responsibility leaves imagined heart palpitations, indigestion, bouts of worry, fear, guilt (if I can’t find the way), and finally exhaustion. Definition of a phobia? You bet. I am terrified of getting lost!
Sometimes I think Bill notices the rash or if I am about to faint, because he agreed we should always take the same road to town, the same streets while there, and the same road back. People wonder why we need directions to their homes or places of business in such a small town. It’s because we are one-road-in-one-road-out folks. Familiarity breeds contentment.
Well, not always.
There are vacations – fun filled adventures via automobile. Our next trip is in the fall to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where there are really only two main roads and if you go down a side street, you wind up in the ocean. Chances are good for a peaceful trip too, because we have been there – in the ocean – before.
Can anyone recommend a non-drowsy tranquilizer for a self-sacrificing Reluctant Navigator?
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I was getting sleepy as Bill and I drove the Interstate home from an outing to Winchester, Virginia today. Being a highway engineer in another life, Bill is bound to freeway travel as the fastest way to get where you’re going. This is not always true of course, but I go along with the program since he has agreed to “Drive Miss Daisy” around for photo ops and adventures.
Virginia Views 