Funny Guy Friday... A little driving technique of my own...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     Just put a gun to my head and shoot me. End it now.
     Forget that... you don't have to do that. Grace just got her learner's permit, so my fate has been sealed. I am going to die of heart failure.
     I am not suggesting that Grace is not a great driver... but on the other hand... Grace is not a great driver... yet. To be fair, she is learning... and she gets better with each outing. But in just three days, she has taken a turn wide and almost hit a parked car; she has run a stop sign; and she has managed to park our car just to the left of our driveway.
     That's a nice way of saying she parked our car in our front yard.
     So far, the only good thing to come out of her getting her learner's permit is that she likes driving with me better than she likes driving with Cheryl. Personally, I like her driving with Cheryl better, but I'll accept my little victory. I get so few wins when I compete with my wife.
     I try to keep a running dialogue with Grace when she is driving, and I remind her of what she is about to encounter. Gracie did not say why she loved me best (okay... okay... prefers me in the passenger seat), but I can hazard a guess.
     People don't see this in public, but Cheryl can be anxious and overbearing in pressure-cooker situations. Especially when there are parked cars and pedestrians in peril.
     That's my story and I am sticking to it!
     Anyway, when Gracie informed me that I won the driving instructor contest, I was gracious in victory. I told Grace that it's hard on both her mother and me because we don't know exactly what she does and doesn't know about driving and the rules of the road. Gracie's response was not encouraging.
     I don't know anything! 
     Wow! With a response like that, I do wish that Cheryl had my serene and unruffled manner in times of adversity. Okay... maybe those are my words, not Gracie's.
     What I really wish is that Gracie could be as good a driver as I was when I was her age.
     What's that? You heard that I hit two parked cars in the first three months of having my license? Okay, that is true, but neither accident was my fault. Both cars were parked in such a way that it was impossible for me to get into my space without hitting them. I know this because if it had been possible, I would not have hit them.
     The first incident occurred on my way to sign up for an 18-and-under intramural basketball league. I was running a bit late, and as I turned into my spot, I hit a little MG. The details are a bit sketchy, but I seem to recall that the MG was parked illegally.
     As luck would have it, the owner turned out to be the commissioner of the league. At first he was upset, but as soon as he heard my last name, he changed his tune. It turns out that my reputation as a big-time baller preceded me. After all, I was a member of the high school's JV basketball team. Not too shabby.
     He told me not to worry about it and that he would have the light replaced. I will always remember his kind words. No big deal... Jeff!
     Jeff? I am not Jeff. Jeff is my brother and a member of the high school's varsity basketball team. This guy doesn't think I am a big-time baller at all. He thinks that I am my brother Jeff.    
     How fortuitous!
     Under normal circumstances, I would have been offended, but under these circumstances, I let it go. My parents already thought that Jeff was a bad driver, so why upset the cart with two lousy drivers in the family? It was the right thing to do.
     My second teeny tiny little fender bender happened in the parking lot of a grocery store. As I pulled into my spot, I hit a very large, very old, station wagon. Again, I seem to recall that the vehicle was taking up two spaces... just begging to be rammed. This little mishap dented my mother's car and tore off the metal trim adorning the side. The other car had little to no damage at all. That thing was a tank.
      I went into the store and paged the other owner. She was so nice. She told me that she, too, had kids, and, besides, there was very little damage to her car. Like the MG owner, she told me not to worry about her car. In fact, she told me that she was more worried about what my mother was going to do when she saw the damage to her car.
     I picked up the broken trim, threw it into the trunk of the car and headed home to face the music. I went into the house and told my mom what had happened.
     Have you ever seen the Flintstones when Fred gets upset and the roof of his house spins up in the air when he yells? That's what happened when I told my mom about the accident... only it wasn't Fred doing the yelling.
     When we went outside to inspect the damage, my mother turned to me and said, You didn't do that, your brother Jeff hit a fence the other day and did that damage. 
     Really? I knew he hit a fence, but I had no idea about the extent of the damage. Actually, I was with him and knew the exact extent of the damage... and it was not this bad.
     My mom continued: Yeah, when he hit that fence, he really messed up the side of my car. 
     Well, you know, the lady that I hit had no damage to her car, so now it makes sense. 
     And with that, my mother skipped back into the house and went about her day.
     I too skipped into the house, and when the coast was clear, I grabbed a big green trash bag... went out to the car... opened the trunk... scooped out all of the damaged car parts... placed them in the green trash bag... and then tossed the bag out with the rest of the trash... never to be seen again.
     Evidence disposed of... but more importantly, crisis averted. And Jeff was still on the hook for hitting that fence.
     In retrospect, I think that I have learned two valuable lessons.
     First, I need to be patient with my new driver. Grace is sure to make mistakes, but she will learn. As she practices, she will increase her confidence and develop little techniques to help her along.
     Second, if she ever gets into a little fender bender of her own, she can always blame my brother Jeff!
     This was a driving technique that always seemed to work for me!