Driving and I don't get along

I'm going to St. Louis tomorrow for a wedding and we're driving. Let me clarify: I'm driving. I do not drive. This is going to be interesting.

I was never really anti-driving until I moved to Chicago, where I'd rather risk my life as a pedestrian than get swerved into by cabs or be responsible for vehicular homicide.

Prior to that, I loved driving. Mostly because I lived in a suburb of Memphis and there wasn't much else to do besides drive up to the mall, flirt with other drivers, speed away from them once they think you're interested and giggle a lot while listening to Christina Aguilera before her tragic dependence on bright red lipstick. Come on over, coooome on over, baby. (God DAMMIT, now that song's in my head.)

It wasn't ALL fun and flirting though. There was this one little car accident... Let's flashback, shall we?


My Six-Car Collision

When I was 17, I drove my brother and his friends to school because they were way too cool for the bus and would much rather be seen in a beat-up 1988 Mitsubishi Galant for reasons that are still unclear to me. That fateful morning as we pulled into the parking lot, I saw some bat-shit crazy girl flying around in her equally crappy sedan.

"Oh, that bitch is gonna HIT someone," I said.

I know. I'm prophetic like that. Didn't quite understand the full irony of that statement until 7 hours later when we were leaving school.

The boys and I piled into the Mitsu and joined the clusterfuck of cars driving down the main road. We were listening to music (probably, like, Staind or something) when the road opened up for a minute and we all got to drive a little faster.

Funny thing about driving in heavy traffic is that when you speed up really quickly, you usually have to stop really quickly too.

So, the light changes colors and the first car slams on his brakes. Stupid. He was practically through the light. So that causes the car behind him -- a friend of mine -- to slam on her brakes. The next car slammed on her brakes, I hit mine, the car behind me hit hers and the SUV behind her was able to stop as well. We were all okay and hadn't hit each other, but it's pretty scary to see the cars behind you FLYING AT FULL FUCKING SPEED.

The SUV behind the last girl who stopped hit her and she hit me. Only a bump.

"What the...?" I said. "Were we just in an acc--"

SLAM.

Yes. We were all hit again. By that bat-shit crazy idiot who I noticed that very morning. Apparently, because she was behind the SUV (um, and has no depth perception?) she didn't realize how quickly she needed to stop and she just plowed right into us. We all hit each other, minus the one jackass who hit his brakes in the first place. Again, irony.

All in all, it was a mess, but no one was hurt. And yes, the guys couldn't stop talking about how this six-car collision had six female drivers. Though I liked to point out that the ONE guy is the one who started this whole thing. Jerk.



And there you have it. It wasn't as traumatic as it was memorable, but I still prefer not to drive. We just don't get along anymore.

But, with Dave having to study for something during the drive, I will be my responsibility not to kill us on the road. So, in accordance with that goal, I will be making Dave drive us out of the city in the morning and I will not get behind the wheel until we are safely on 55-S.

Wish me luck!