My wife's a brilliant driver

My wife is a brilliant driver, how do I know that? She told me while sitting in the back seat of my car.

Don't get me wrong way back when I was a younger man I used to be a boy racer. I've been known to practice handbrake turns in my 850cc Mini when ever there was a hint of rain on the road. In my youth I dreamed of driving for the Ferrari Formula 1 team, of course I didn't have to speak Italian because I was English, I would just have repeat myself but shout a bit louder for my team to understand me.

As the years have passed I've become a slower driver and my days of driving just under the 100 MPH automatic ban limit in England are way back in my rear mirror. These days I tend to set the cruise control for 4 MPH above the speed limit and relax when I see a hidden police vehicle at the side of the road. It so much fun not to have to jump on the breaks if I see something like a police car on the road. While it was fun to see the miles click away on the speedometer my driving style also involved a lot of stress as I constantly checked, double checked and then checked again for the traffic police.

These days my fear is that the standard punishment for speeding in my old home of Cobb County involved the running of huge currents of electricity through my veins or perhaps the more humane method of using three drugs injected into my adonis body.

Obviously my wife is special, she's a retired school librarian and not many of them reach retirement age. She believes that she can drive 10 MPH above the speed limits without fear of a policeman giving her a ticket. I think this has less to do with her ability to beat any NASCAR driver to the line but more to do with her rather top heavy body, not to mention her smile. It doesn't take a great deal of imagination to see my wife adjusting her clothing as the policeman exits his vehicle, in the past I've also enjoyed being the victim of her charms.

My wife is a faster driver than me, that feels better now that I have that off my chest but I'm yet to be convinced that this is a good thing. While I've left behind the zigging and zagging across lanes of traffic to gain some kind of advantage on the other drivers around me I can't claim the same for my wife.

Don't get me wrong, my wife checks wing mirrors, rear view mirrors, signals and maneuvers in the most effective and safe way but also at the same time manages to text, apply make-up, adjust the radio, perfect the the venting and the adjust the seat position. She has the most amazing hand-eye coordination, much faster than Cassius Clay (Muhammad Ali) or my fictional hero Jack Reacher.

Sometimes with the top down and driving in the sun under clear blue skies I catch myself driving 10 miles and hour under the speed limit. I never understood why some interstates had minimum speed limit signs but now that I'm over 60 years old I've come to realize that they are there to encourage me to speed up now and then.

My driving style frustrates my wife, even when I say I'm going to wait for an car in the opposite lane to pass before I turn left because I don't want to place her in any danger. If I'm lucky I just get "the look" but more often I'm reminded of our expected arrival time. Even if my wife is in the back seat I can get "the luck" and depending on the other passengers in the car I can be told to stop driving like an old man.

It's a strange thing, I'm driving two 4.3L Lexus cars, one a convertible and the other a sedan, both with the most impressive acceleration speed and they've never been above 80MPH while I've been behind the wheel. Some would say it's a waste of engineering but I'm quite happy enjoying the luxury of the brand, laughing at the modified Honda's trying to blast away from the lights. Sometimes while I'm listening to the boom, boom of younger men's sound systems I find myself playing some soothing classical music and thinking how wonderful life has been to me.

These days I don't fight traffic I just go along with the flow, I play follow my leader and arrive stress free with no tickets. Of course I could mimic my brilliant driving wife with her zigging and zagging but sadly I just can't be arsed with all the effort that this entails.

That's my reality,

Jobsonian