My dear husband is an excellent driver, or at least that's what he tells me.
No really, all kidding aside, he is an excellent driver, or at least I thought so.
Yes really, I'm going on the record and saying he is one of the best drivers I can think of, except when he's driving in the city where we live.
After years of speeding along the German Autobahns, in fast cars, very fast cars, and driving in big cities like Munich, Berlin, Paris, Athens, London, Boston and anywhere except the city where we currently live, I sat silently and might I add, sweetly at his side.
With that one exception, he's still at the top of his driving game. Or at least that's what he tells me!!
You wouldn't know it if you heard some of our conversations while navigating the streets of our lovely hometown of Portland, Oregon! I become a backseat driver as soon as we pull out of our garage. We both agree on one thing, it's the drivers here, not us.
We're not sure what happened over the ten years we've lived here, the car chatter is rather new in our world. I love riding shotgun, taking long road trips and driving fast. In the past I have even been known to fall into a sweet sleep in the passenger seat of our Porsche 911 going well over 200 kmh, because the sound of the engine at that speed can rock one to sleep.
Not now, not here. That's why I found this Bizarro comic in yesterday's paper so, so funny!