Another Day, Another Drive: When Relationships and Road Rage Collide
Ah, the age-old marital spat: driving. There’s always one licensed lunatic and one backseat driver in every relationship, and some of us have the misfortune of dancing this jig for years *ahem* 15 years to be exact. Buckle up, dear readers, because we’re diving into a tale based on a real Reddit post—from someone very much like you and I!
The Setup: One License, Two Driving Styles
Meet our unnamed hero (victim), who boasts an immaculate driving record spanning a glorious 15 years. Not a scratch, ticket, or even a cheeky parking fine. I mean, this guy makes RoboCop look like a reckless daredevil.
Enter his wife (crash-test dummy), whose driving history reads more like a series of unfortunate events. She’s managed to total two cars, accumulate enough fender-benders to qualify for a loyalty card, and flirt dangerously close with losing her license due to demerits. A symphony of chaos on four wheels, bless her heart.
The Nerve-Wracking Reality of Passenger Anxiety
Despite our gentleman’s stellar driving résumé, his wife can’t help but morph into a rattling bundle of nerves whenever he’s behind the wheel. Her incessant nitpicking—speed alerts, warning about other cars, and traffic light reminders—transforms an otherwise serene drive into a living nightmare. It’s like she thinks she’s being driven by a teenager swigging Red Bull while texting. Talk about projecting, darling!
Trading Places: The Wife Takes the Wheel
Our driver, fed up with the constant backseat blasting, makes a bold—some might say brazen—move. He lays down the ultimate ultimatum: he will not drive anywhere with his wife unless she takes the wheel. Bold indeed.
So, for the last two months, Mrs. Volvo has been the designated speed demon while Mr. Pristine Record has been reclining in passenger-seat luxury. Picture this: him napping, fully confident that Sweden’s finest engineering will protect him from whatever fresh disaster unfolds.
What ensues is predictably delightful chaos. Wifey-dearest doesn’t enjoy the responsibility of driving post-dinner drinks or beer with friends, and she particularly despises being lashed to the cursed chariot for family visits that span a couple of grueling hours. Meanwhile, he’s catching up on his Z’s, every nap a punctuation mark of victory in this ongoing battle.
The Ultimatum and the Standoff
After enough nagging to rival a toddler in a toy store, our man offers a compromise: he’ll resume his driving duties—but only if she zips her lip and keeps her critiques to herself. In response? She thinks he’s being an insufferable jerk. She claims it’s just her anxiety speaking and not that divine spark of criticism that apparently runs in her veins. Who knew nerves had their own megaphone?
Whose Side Are You On?
Now, let’s crunch those numbers, folks. On one side, we have 15 years of spotless driving. On the other? Two totaled cars, a handful of fender-benders, and enough anxiety to fund a lifetime of therapy. One might argue that it’s only logical to trust the guy who hasn’t turned vehicles into scrap metal. Yet, as we all know, logic tends to sit this one out when it comes to marriage disputes.
Roger’s Hot Take
Alright, buckle up, buttercups, because it’s opinion time with Roger! Here’s the tea: Relationships are give-and-take, but safety isn’t exactly something you want to compromise on. It’s simple math, really. One zero-accident driver versus one calamity queen. If you’ve got a solid survivor’s instinct, you’d hand over those keys faster than she claims the passenger seat.
But—and it’s a Kardashian-sized ‘but’—communication is key, folks. Nagging is a cancer to marital bliss, a rogue passenger virus that simply must be vaccinated against. Instead of swapping life-and-death responsibilities like baseball cards, maybe it’s time for a good ol’ heart-to-heart. If she’s nervous, why not delve into the root of it? Perhaps even entertain the notion of couple’s therapy or, at the very least, some joint lessons in defensive driving. Hey, we can all learn!
In summary, Mr. Pristine: you’re being perfectly rational. Mrs. Volvo: take a chill pill or two. Maybe blend a smoothie out of them for good measure. But mostly, work on that whine before it turns into a full-blown melodrama. Marriage is a drive after all, not a demolition derby.
Original story
I have never had an accident or a traffic ticket in the 15 years I have had a license.
My wife has totaled two cars, been in several fender benders, and has com close to losing her license on demerits.
Despite this whenever we are driving somewhere and I’m behind the wheel she is constantly nagging me. About my speed, about other cars, about upcoming traffic lights, basically everything.
For the last two months I have refused to drive anywhere with her unless she is driving. I do not say anything about her driving.
I don’t warn her about stop signs, I don’t mention that she should brake when she is going to rear end someone, I just let her drive. She has a Volvo.
I will survive.
She has been complaining that she hates being in charge of driving when we go out. She doesn’t like to drive after having wine with dinner or a beer with friends.
Even an hour after the drink. She hates that I can nap on the way home from visiting family that lives a couple of hours away.
I told her I would go back to driving but that I would stop if I heard any criticism from her about it. She thinks that isn’t fair.
She says I’m punishing her for being fretful when she isn’t in control.
I pointed out our driving records and said that she should be more afraid when she is driving than when I am.
She thinks I’m behaving like an asshole. Am I?