Thursday, July 12, 2012

On... Hedy, driving miss Hedy...

Recently, I have been called out on my questionable driving choices.  Yes, I drive fast.  I will be the first to admit it.  I love the rush I get from moving a vehicle at high speeds.  It kinda rocks.  It's kinda sexy.  And god damn it, it's just really fucking fun.

Yesterday, I heard this from the back seat:
(My oldest was telling my youngest about driving speeds.) "See, when you are going 100 miles per hour, that means you are going to Eugene."

"That sounds like mom."

To clear things up, I usually set the cruise control for 71 miles per hour in the I-5 corridor... but there have been a few times, when I was driving by myself, that I have driven that fast. 

OK, more than a few times.  I think my favourite was the time I drove from Boise to Pendleton in just under 3 hours.  

I was alone.  I was all by myself.  No one was looking...

But to be fair, I happened to have a sweet, little, sexy, sporty as hell, 5 speed coupe at the time.  GOD, I miss that car.  Flying down Cabbage Hill was ever so exhilarating.

I don't think I am an unsafe driver, in the least.  And I feel the need, at times, to clarify the cause of some of the distressing things that may occur while a passenger is in my car for the first time.

See?  My gas pedal.  It sticks.  No, really, it does.

I swear.  It does.

It does not stick down, but up, rather.  So, when I go to depress the pedal with my foot, it will jerk forward slightly, before we really get going.  The car is 12 years old now.  I can't give it too much shit for this, honestly. And once it stops doing its weird little freak dance... at that point?  Yeah.  We are going to get going.

Because that's what I do. I am down with the boogie... just deal, bitches.

Don't think of me as the girl who will paralyze you.  Think of me as the girl who will get you to the airport on time when you miss your alarm.  I am that girl.  Just close your eyes, and try not to think about what I'm doing.  I swear, I know what it is. You have my word.  Really, I think I missed my calling as a stunt driver.

After all, if she says she can do it, she can do it!  She don't make false claims.

I have been driving for over 20 years now, and the only accident I have ever been in, was a one-car accident that happened because my car was ancient, huge, and had old-skool, rear-wheel drive.  The person in front of me did not have any tail lights, or brake lights.  We were on a highway that had a 55 MPH speed limit, but it also had opportunities for turns, including left turns.

By the time I realized that this person had stopped to make a left turn; no brake lights, blinker, or any indication, other than the not moving, I had to slam on my brakes.  And the car lurched one way, then another, and then flew into a ditch.


This was in the summer of 1995.  I was 19.  No one was hurt... ridiculously badly.  I broke a couple ribs, but that was the worst of it.  My giant boobs protected me... although the car was toast.

I kinda miss that car sometimes.  It was enormous, and the back seat was like a bed!

What's not to love?

My last speeding ticket was in 2001.  And OK, I've been stopped a few times, but I'm pretty good at sweet talking my way out of things.  I'm not necessarily proud of that... but I'm cheap.  It saves me money.  Most would argue that... saving money... is a good thing.

I am glad that at least my guy appreciates my mad stunt driver skills.  If I pull off a particularly brave move, he will even blow me a kiss from the passenger seat.

This, right here, is what long term relationships are made of.


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