I am the driver; I do all of the driving in our family. I guess I’ve always been that way, really.
When my husband and I started dating, he had a hard time with it. In his family, as with most I’ve noticed, the man does the driving. As he put it, only when his father was falling asleep at the wheel would he hand off the keys to his mother. He just simply always drives, much in the same way that I do.
I blame a lot of my driving on my serious issue with motion sickness, more specifically CAR sickness. I have a really hard time riding in the car with anyone. I remember a few years ago a group of coworkers would often take turns driving to lunch. I loved all these people, and loved to join them, but I got so nauseous that I got to dread it. I should have just admitted to the problem, sure, but it’s a bit embarrassing to be a grown up that gets car sick. Plus I don’t like sounding high maintenance; I’m really not a high-maintenance person! You’d laugh to know how many times I’ve sat in silence, mortified that I might just throw up in someone’s car. I will sheepishly ask if I may crack a window because the fresh air seems to help. And chewing gum. It really is an awful feeling.
I remember the first time I met my in-laws; I drove to North Carolina to meet them. Of course I was nervous (I tend to be a nervous person anyway) and I got there just in time to meet everyone (mom, dad, brother, sil, kids) and load up the car to leave for dinner. We rode with B’s parents. I didn’t know it at the time, but his father is renown for his ability to drive really fast between points a and b.* As I sat in the back seat, nervously having conversation while being thrown from side to side from the curvy mountain roads combined with his dad’s driving. I have never been more terrified in my life. “I’m going to throw up in their car. Oh dear Lord, I’m going to always be remembered as the girl who puked in dad’s car.” I gripped my husband’s hand and sheepishly rolled the window down (in December). Thankfully, I made it. It embarrasses me to even think about it.
While B’s dad is the worst car sickness source, riding with just about anyone has the same result. I spend the entire trip miserable. Instead of constantly causing myself to be miserable, I choose to always drive. Sure, it gets old, and in theory, I’d like to share the responsibility, but in reality, I know I’d just get sick. So B has gotten used to it, as he says, it still doesn’t feel right, but it’s a necessity.
*Last Christmas, my brother-in-laws family needed to drive down to Atlanta for a holiday dinner after the holiday festivities with all of us. When they realized that their car was leaking some sort of needed fluid, my mother-in-law offered to take their SUV, to which my niece replied, “No! Not Grandpa’s car, it makes me car sick!” I laughed out loud!
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