Venty like a Starbucks coffee.


First a little background. I’ve been driving a whole lot more lately in hopes to get my license this summer. This leads to another story of why I don’t have it yet. In short, no motivation.

And now for the long version. Some people get cars for their graduation or college graduation or get a car when they turn 16. I didn’t. Not bitter about that tho, seriously. But this just means, I am poor and can’t afford one myself. Each time I have the hopes of maybe getting one, something goes wrong, for instance my lay off in Dec. Therefore, whether I get my license or not, I’m still without transportation. Same thing either way = an unmotivated me.

Add to this non-motivation the fact that any effort I make involves being in a car with mother in tow. So let’s say my motivation level was at 0; now it’s plummeted into the ground.

Thing about my mother that results in a good 90% of our arguments is that she talks A LOT. Now, I know I do on occasion, and I have a lot of friends that do, but I swear this is really different. She is the most verbose person I have ever known; the kind of person that can’t answer a yes-or-no question in one word to save her life. Also the kind of person who, if allowed, will talk your ear off first thing in the morning, meaning 6 a.m. kind of early. And a good majority of what she has to say is about nothing. So for as long as I can remember, I’ve pointed these things out to her, for instance, don’t engage me in conversation about nothing early in the morning. After all these years, she just recently got it.

So as of recently I’ve been driving with Mom. After almost a year they finally got the little hooptie fixed. So I get to drive around in this casket on wheels with no AC and a front seat that’s left me with a bad back since I started driving it. So I prep myself before the first drive a few weeks ago. I try to tell her in the nicest way possible to not be obnoxious. Not in those words exactly. I explain it’s fine to tell me if I’m doing something wrong but I don’t want to talk about just nothing. It’ll just aggravate me and behind the wheel all cramped up and hot is the last place I want aggravation. So she gives me like a “hmmmf” kinda noise. Mind you, I have to explain this to her way in advance.

Sidenote: Strange how the golden rule doesn’t usually work in my house. The things I expect people to do to me seem to offend when I do it to them. Ex: If I’m talking and you’re not listening, please tell me so I can stop talking to no one. If I do that to Mom, she gets pissed.

Back to our story. So a few weeks ago, I start driving with her. Aside from the heat and the back cramps, it goes well. No disagreements. No verbal diarrhea. Nothing. So here I am thinking, this may actually work out. Weeks go by and she’s becoming the woman I know that I hate to drive with.

Here’s what happened yesterday that set me off. It was dim and raining lightly. I’m driving home from Bradford through Haverhill. (I forgot to mention that my little death mobile has headlights about as strong as a penlight.) My mother has bad night vision. Because of this, of course this must mean that I do too. I’m seeing just fine. The only problem that happens sometimes is that I can’t see the lines in the road ’cause they’re a bit faded, but I’m still on my half of the road. It’s raining lightly and she wants me to put on my wipers. I say, “No, because it’ll make things worse and I won’t be able to see.” It’s just sprinkling at this point. I quickly turn them on for a second to prove this and the windshield goes blurry ’cause there’s not enough rain. Oh and the wipers screech like nails on a chalkboard. So I’m like, “SEE?” and turn them off. After a little bit, it starts raining a little more but not like really raining. My mom is not happy that the wipers are not on to her satisfaction. I put them on, but really low so I could still see. (It’s nice to see when you’re driving at night.) All this time, she’s been dropping not-so-subtle hints about the wipers. “I don’t know how you can see.” “I still think you should turn them on higher.” “I always have them on higher when I’m driving.” “Hmmf, I still don’t know how you can see.” AHHHHHH ENOUGH!!

The more you’re irritated and picked on, the more mistakes you make (I almost took out a mailbox) which makes her think her argument is proven. And of course there’s no notice of how I drive fine when I’m not being badgered. I still remember when I was 16 and I just pulled over out of aggravation when she just wouldn’t leave me alone.

Today, I drove home from Bradford through Haverhill again. She likes to freak out when people cross in front of me even though they may not be anywhere near me and my foot is on the brake. She did that yesterday at Demoulas when a woman was crossing in the lot and I was a good distance from her with my foot on the brake and creeping up slowly. She’s about all the way crossed and Mom’s like, “She’s trying to cross!!” Anyway, today she’s not helping me drive at all. Just talking. “People get in accidents over here. I don’t know why. Blah blah blah….. “

Today wasn’t nearly as bad as yesterday but just irritating ’cause I was still chafing from yesterday. I’ve been planning all night yesterday and today to bring up the whole wiper thing and ask her to please leave me alone and let me drive as long as I’m driving well. But this is a task because everything offends her. This is a woman who can’t take constructive criticism. When I finally get home tonight, I think I’m going to drop it, but being rather miffed, I slightly overshot the driveway. Didn’t do anything wrong, just by a couple feet and had to cut the wheel tighter. She responds, “You overshot the driveway.” AHHHHHHH!!! THANK YOU, QUEEN OF OBVIOUS!!!

Then I park and just explain to her to talk a little less because it’s irritating. Of course she’s all offended and starts this whole thing. So I bring up the wiper thing and ask what’s the deal with that. She responds, “I couldn’t see.” Hello? I say, “Yeah, but I could.”

“I know, but I couldn’t.”
“What is more important? The driver or the passenger seeing?” (Here’s another thing. You ask her logical black & white questions and she doesn’t get it.)

She keeps responding with, “I don’t know how you could see.”

I repeat, “Would you rather see and have me not see?” to which she never answered. I must’ve repeated that a good 4 times. She says to drop it, which is usually the reply when she knows she has no other reply.

This results in one pissed of me. I got home and vented on the phone and got of the phone and vented on here. Fortunately, I actually have money now so I have the option to just pay for driving lessons from somewhere and seriously I’d rather spend the 20-something dollars to drive with some schmoe for an hour than lose my sanity and waste half an evening writing a book-length entry on LJ.

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