More Reasons Why I Should Not Be Allowed to Drive

So I drive a lot and while I drive, I think. We all know this. If you are new to my blog and do not know this, read this first. Also, if you are new to this blog, you may want to read this. These two posts will fill you in on what you are about to read since this is a continuation of the second post I link you to.

I was driving the other day (yesterday, I think.) and I was getting really distracted. I suddenly realized that one of the reasons that I shouldn't be allowed to drive is because I can't concentrate long enough on the road to be an effective driver. I get distracted by a great deal of things. Looking in my rearview mirrors, thinking, zoning out on the patch of pavement in front of me, texting, the construction guy holding the sign at an empty road to my right, Ryan not talking to me, a bird that flies across the sky, a cat walking on the sidewalk, and much more. Driving becomes difficult when you would much rather look at everything that you drive past and memorize every detail of that thing. Cars driving on the road with you become a thing of dreams. They don't really exist and all that matters is that the one cloud in the sky looks a lot like a unicorn. Distractions are everywhere and my mind leeches onto every single one of them.

Ryan is scared. Every time he gets in my car, he buckles his seat belt. This is normal for anyone getting in a car. What is not normal is that as he buckles his seatbelt, he thinks, "Just in case Brooke decides to kill us today." I know this because he said it out loud when he buckled his seat belt today. It made me sad. I don't think I am that bad of a driver. Yet every time I start to vear slightly toward the curb or another car or into another lane, he freaks out and starts yelling at me. I know what I was doing and we were not going to die. I veared on purpose. (I tell him and myself this every time). Today, I was backing out of a parking spot and I hit one of the metal doors that hides the big dumpsters. Ryan flipped. He was like "Now there's a huge dent in the back of your car." I have hit inanimate objects before. I do it quite often. The first day that my mom let me drive to school after I got my license, I hit the street sign on the other side of the street from our driveway. When I took my sister to her driving test, I hit a gate. When I was parking in the snow, I hit a pole. Those three did the most damage to my mom's car. With my car, I have tapped a pole while parking. It did no damage. And I have hit the garbage door. When we looked at the back of my car, there was one teeny tiny scratch on the little flipper thing on my trunk. It's not like it matters, the paint job on my car was shit to begin with. He freaked out over nothing. Maybe that's another reason I shouldn't drive. I am way to cavalier about things that normal people would freak out about and I freak out about things that normal people would handle in a cavalier and responsible way.

I will probably think of more reasons later, but for now, this is it. :)