The Joys and Perils of Driving With a 65-Year-Old Teenager At The Wheel
Dear Belladonna Rogers,
Joe, who’s 65, and I have been happily married for 40 years. The one subject we seriously differ on is driving. With two vehicles, we go our separate ways everyday, and never have to bicker.
But this week is different: we’ll be taking turns driving the 650 miles from Marks, Mississippi, to Chicago to see our parents. Our driving styles couldn’t be more different. I’m slow and cautious, while Joe’s a confident leadfoot whose preferred speed is 80 mph. He’s never gotten a ticket or had an accident, so he can honestly claim that he’s a safe driver. But 80 mph exceeds my comfort zone. Every year we do this, I’m in fear for my life the whole time he’s driving. Help!
Nervous Nellie in Marks, Mississippi
Dear Nervous Nellie,
Driving styles are a vivid expression of the personality of the individual at the wheel. Powerful emotions that that are often suppressed in the rest of the driver’s life emerge on the road as almost nowhere else. For those who learned to drive as teens – other than the anomalous Manhattanites in our midst who often never learn at all – getting behind the wheel will forever remind us of our first heady whiff of freedom. For many, that adolescent rush of liberation never entirely vanishes whenever the steering wheel is in our eager hands.
The open road is the physical equivalent of the web. On both, we’re sharing time and space with complete strangers. The force of our feelings, especially the main course of exhilaration along with the side orders of anger, entitlement, and a belief in our rightness — not to mention our righteousness — becomes ever more pronounced.
The normal constraints that require us to behave as mature adults have become as rare on interstate highways as they have in Internet comment sections. People who are unfailingly polite to their friends, co-workers, and neighbors can become careless of the feelings of others once they’re at the wheel or the computer’s keyboard. There, the only sign of their identity is their license plate — the vehicular equivalent of an ISP address on the web.
At the wheel or online, you’re no longer Joe Jones, the kindly face of your business or neighborhood. You’re empowered as Left Lane Passer-in-Chief or All-Powerful Put-down Master (or Mistress) of the Comments Section.
A good and loving husband (or wife) can become a different person on the road, especially an interstate highway.
Since he normally has the car to himself, Joe’s driving habits may be so ingrained, and the exhilaration he derives from driving safely at 80 mph so much a part of who he is, that he may not be able to slow down. He may be simply unwilling, or even psychologically unable, to decelerate on stretches of interstate where he can easily do 80 where the legal limit is 75. This may be an essential part of Joe’s pleasure at the wheel. It’s like being young again.
One way to deal with his driving is to avoid peering at the speedometer. If you don’t stare at it, you probably can’t tell how fast the car is going, except by knowing Joe’s own preference. Try looking out the window and enjoy the stark winter landscapes of soaring trees bereft of leaves, or the towering magnolias still evergreen in all their majesty. Cloudscapes are glorious marvels of nature, especially illuminated by the long, slanting rays of the late afternoon sun. Or you could close your eyes entirely and delight in the music, and in anticipation of being in the company of your loved ones.
Your round trip will involve almost 24 hours in the car together. If you can’t avoid peeking at the speedometer, which is my first line of advice, an agreement before you leave home is my second.
“Joe, I’m looking forward to the trip with you,” you could say. ”We always have fun listening to our favorite music and it’s great to visit our parents. But this year, let’s try to agree on some ground rules so we’ll both be happy on the road together.”
Don’t criticize Joe’s driving: given his blameless record, there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. You don’t want to make the discussion about something he does that you think is “wrong.” That will only get his back up, cause him to become defensive and dig in his heels — in this case on the gas pedal.
The issue, in fact, isn’t his driving, it’s your reaction to it. So take responsibility for your own anxiety and say:
“I know you’re an excellent driver but I don’t like it when you go over 80 mph. It makes me nervous. I know you handle the car very skillfully, but since we’ll be in it together for 20 hours, would you agree to drive under 75 for my peace of mind?”
In that way, you convey to Joe that you know you’re the nervous one and you’re acknowledging that you’re asking him to do something for you that’s both difficult and unnatural for him. The key phrases I suggest using are “I don’t like it when” and “It [not you, but “it”] makes me nervous.”
Now the subject isn’t something that Joe does but a response of yours that you recognize as a failing (feeling anxiety in a car driven legally at 80 mph by a safe driver).
He may say that he will get you to Chicago sooner, in which case you could offer to leave earlier so that he can drive more slowly and still arrive at the same time.
The key is to try to remain reasonable and fair-minded and not get into an argument about how dangerous you think Joe’s driving is. If he exceeds the limit anyway, you can mention, gently (not in a shrill, exasperated tone) that he’s going faster than you two agreed he would.
Then there’s a third option: the Greyhound bus fare from Clarksdale, Mississippi (the nearest Greyhound station) to Chicago is $236.34 round trip, per senior. If you have an extra $472.68, it might make sense to take the bus. Buses today are equipped with free wi-fi, electrical plugs for cell phones and DVD-players, and are far more comfortable than the long-distance buses that plied the nation’s roads in decades past.
Assuming you do choose to drive together, the slower the music that you play in the car, the more slowly Joe may drive. You could also remind him that your parents won’t be around forever, and that you’d like to look back on these trips with warmth and affection rather than with fear and trembling. Whatever you do, may this be your happy destiny:
Belladonna Rogers
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Dear Nellie, I noticed that you did not mention the speed at which you WOULD be comfortable traveling. As a passenger, there is no perceptible difference between between the posted speed limit (75) and 80, so my guess is that your preferred speed is much lower.
You also did not mention the kind and age of your car. Speaking from experience, I can tell you that many European-built cars are optimized for higher speeds that would have most of us Americans cowering in our seats. On the other hand, many older American cars in poor condition are unsafe even at American highway speeds.
How are the tires on your car? The condition of the tires is probably more important than any other factor contributing to the safety of your car on the highway. Properly inflated and balanced tires in good condition are a must.
Is Joe willing to switch drivers when he’s tired? I’m not your age yet but I am close. Our reflexes are not what they were at age 20 and highway driving really is very demanding.
If were really talking about the difference between 75mph and 80, and your car and tires are in good condition, and Joe is alert and well-rested then it sounds like safety is not an issue.
Do you own an iPod? They are wonderful. Fill it with music and some wonderful podcasts. That and a couple of good books will focus your attention away from Joe and 80mph.
If that fails simply keep reminding yourself that Joe is not suicidal. That’s what I do in Italian taxis.
Preferred speed can vary greatly depending on conditions of the road and the age of your tires.
I am amused too but have different advice. Send the wife to Skip Barber Driving Control School or a Bob Bondurant course. The issue here is control. When car control becomes a learned skill and wifey’s own driving improves, she’ll be able to tell that hubby’s driving is competent and safe, thereby enabling her to relax while he’s behind the wheel clicking along at 80mph. That, or let her do the driving with her newfound competence. This works. It happened to me.
Reading this brought a smile to my face and lifted my mood this morning.
Guilt can summon a little nervous laughter, even when I’ve made an honest effort to change and be conscientious to my wife in the car or to others on the road.
I’ve adopted the (speedometer/facial expression) method of gauging speed when my wife is present. I’ve also seen that look on complete strangers faces, as if they knew me or something.
I always laugh when the complainer starts by making the point that the problem is all in their head. Good grief, you’re just as dead at 70 mph, dear. Sounds like he should be more nervous than you. He likes to drive and is good at it and you’re afraid of the road.
I’m with- check the tires, wipe the windshield, keep sunglasses around, and then don’t look at the speedometer.
Is he a safe driver? Is he a confident driver? My spouse drives faster than I like, but I’m not driving that often. We’ve got one car. We’re safer with his speed and reactions than we are with my speed limit monitoring, and swearing at other drivers. My kids claim that’s how they learned all the words they aren’t supposed to say.
I won’t even get in the car with his mother. She drives the speed limit, but doesn’t obey traffic laws, and is reactive in the extreme. So, she’ll swan across a parking lot, rather than follow the flowlanes and painted aisles. She’s going to get fishboned in a parking-lot someday, and it will be her fault.
And she gets nervous if there is a car behind her- not tailgating- just behind her- and she reacts by swinging into any escape route. It’s how I decided to never, ever ride with her again- in one four block excursion she whipped into a bank lane- going the wrong way- enterring the exit- and then she swung into a turn lane- right into another car. The other driver had better reflexes, otherwise my husband would be taking his inheritance money from her to shop for a Swedish nanny replacement for me.
I won’t let anyone drive with her. She thinks it’s because I’m nervous and overprotective of the kids, and too clingy with my husband. She thinks she’s the only safe driver on the road.
My dad is the other- too confident- but he’s pretty sure he’s fabulous in his low-slung sports car blasting loud music. It’s a red convertible with an enormous stereo. If he weren’t so old, I’d say it was a mid-life crisis car. He’s pretty sure he can make left-hand turns into oncoming traffic across five lanes. with my kids in the car. It’s “efficient.” nuuuuu…efficiently dead is still dead.
So, we’re considered stick in the muds and boring for not electing to strap all our kids into a convertible for a wild, cross-town ride.
Why not take both cars, and call each other on cell phones? That’s what Dad does with his wife. They both prefer driving their own car, in their own fashion. They have those odd phone jacks that turn a radio into a phone, and they just leave them on for most of the drive. they plug in a music player, for background sound, and just chat as if they were sitting right next to each other.
Ya’ll are older, and trying to pace each other? isn’t sleeping an option?
small-motion patterns have been studied as a way to calm people. it’s the basis behind EFT. this can be replicated by fingering worry beads, praying a rosary, or jesus prayer beads, or the 100 names of allah necklace, or knitting, or possibly crochet. If you knit- garter stitch scarves on short needles is pretty easy. I knit dishcloths- but the needles are 14 inches long, so your driver has to be used to them- they flicker in the peripheral vision. some people think knit socks are ideal travel- knitting.
singing- is there a songbook both of you know? and can sing together? I can do this with my friends from high school. With spouse, not so much, since he likes hard rock. The kids sing along to GunsNroses with him. it’s kind of appalling, and touching, at the same time.
And, well, going out in a fiery car crash is a pretty quick way to die. It’s not even always fiery. The spouse lost one of his workers to a U-turn on a country road this year. The front seat passengers died; the kids in the back survived. He was on his cell-phone, too. just a thought of caution.
there are prayers for travel. Most religious bookstores with have twee little crystal angels to hang from your rear-view mirror, to remind you you are ultimately safe. My pagan relatives hang different necklaces and emblems, depending on the journey. It looks like a rap-star mirror, when it’s a long, complicated business trip.
the question so much is not- his speed- as- his safety. you can perish at 40 mph, as easily as 70. You don’t mention reflexes, or eyesight, so we can assume they are both still functioning intact? His driving instincts and habits are not impaired? Are yours? It’s a fair question.
If you have doubts- buses are more plush, airlines throw in a free romantic interlude with a TSA agent, and staying home is always on the table.
I hope you enjoy the view out the passenger side of the car. It’s a good view.
“airlines throw in a free romantic interlude with a TSA agent”
+1
Nellie, I like the suggestion of closing your eyes and relaxing while your competent husband drives in his own fun way….
Depending on road conditions and posted speed limits, driving 80 MPH isn’t necessarily dangerous. If the speed limit is 75 (as in some states), driving 80 is likely keeping up with the flow of traffic. Going with the flow of traffic is usually safer than driving significantly faster or slower. Driving too slow is actually quite dangerous not only to yourself but also to other drivers. Slow drivers cause congestion which contributes to accidents. And for goodness sake, if you’re driving slower than the flow of traffic, get thee to the right lane! “Slower traffic keep right” isn’t just a good idea, it’s the law.
Now, if he’s driving 80 MPH in a 60 MPH speed zone, he’s likely going too fast for that stretch of road. Speed should be based on the driving conditions, the mechanical condition of the car, and the physical and mental condition of the driver. Driving fatigued or distracted is about as dangerous as driving drunk.
Happily, the posted speed limit is 80mph on parts of Utah’s I-15.
Going 80 mph on a flat, “endless” road in a well maintained car feels like 60 mph or less in an urban environment. Enjoy the ride; you’ll get there faster. If not take some sleeping pills & doze your way through it.
Wot, no reference to Goofy in Motor Mania????
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZAZ_xu0DCg
The perfect illustration of your point.
Brett, what a find! It is, as you say, perfect. Highly recommended to all readers.
These days, if a man does something and there isn’t a woman present, is it still wrong? I haven’t put a scratch on a vehicle in thirty years, and that’s driving in ice, snow, and dark half the year. She Who Must Be Obeyed, SWMBO, has done major damage to and in one case totalled every vehicle she’s had in the twenty-odd years we’ve been together. She’s bearable in her complaints and admonishions when it is just the two of us – most of the time; I have pulled over a few times and said, “you drive.” That one is particularly effective on mountain roads with no guardrails on dark and stormy nights, preferably with ice and snow. When her kids were still with us, I pretty much quit driving altogether with her and any kid. I couldn’t hear myself think for the constant “look outs” and gasps, and generally psychotic mommy behavior. The boat was even worse and she seemed to believe that I was simply living for the opportunity to drown her children; the thought had crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t have taken myself out with them or sank my boat; putting them in bags and throwing off a bridge seemed more appropriate. And I’m not some amateur that just learned to operate a boat by rote, I’m a USCG licensed Master and people will actually pay me to take them out, but that didn’t much impress SWHMBO.
Anyway, I don’t look for opportunities to ride with her or drive her in urban areas. She’s OK, only OK, out on the open roads except in steep, mountain areas, but she’s learned to just white-knuckle it in silence and go through her catechism of all the ways I’m stupid.
Art, I think SWMBO is extremely fortunate and will, I hope, one day wake up and realize that she is. In the mean time, hats off to you and the brave USCG.
I just hope SWMBO never takes you up on your offer of “you drive.”
Thanks for the kind words, Belladonna. For the record, I’ve never been in the CG, they’re the agency that issues merchant mariners’ licenses and regulates vessels for hire. A CG vessel or helicopter is the most beautiful thing in the World when you’re in trouble; not so much when they come screaming up to you in their fast boats with a 19 year old pointing a machine gun at you and your family/guests when they’re doing their “Homeland Security” thing.
OK, you hate the woman you live with, and evidently have loathed her for years (“she who must be obeyed” … oh, riillly?!)
My husband doesn’t drive. He has a license, but the one time he took a car (from his boss) for a test drive immed. after getting said license, he was in an accident that totalled the car, at about 40 mph. He’s never driven again, at least not more than 2 blks. A few yrs. ago I about severed my thumb, and while he went with me to the hospital, I had to drive myself with my hand wrapped in 3 tea towels, holdng it up to the sky.
I grew up on a ranch/farm. I’ve been driving since I was 8. High school was 15 miles away. Any “away game” I had to attend as a cheerleader was 50+ miles away (as in, the nearest town). I agree with the old song, “I can’t drive 55″. Puts me to @*&#^$ sleep! On the interstate I drive 80-85, going with the traffic. Last wknd. on the way home from visiting 200 miles away, we had a blowout. I safely steered us to the shoulder, but the drive home on our “doughnut” — 50 mph for 50 miles — was nerve wracking to say thee very least! We had 100 miles to go, interstate all the way. You should’ve SEEN the jockeying for position going on behind me, and huge trucks on my bumper, MAYBE 6 ft. away. People going around me on the left (I stayed in the right lane), then pulling in front of me in right lane to squirt on up thru traffic at 90-100 mph! I thought we’d be dead before we got home. My husband said then, and I quote:
“I never thought I’d be weirded out by you driving as slow as I would, but we can’t ever do this again! It made me worry MORE than ever …”
Well, for a lefty useful idiot, you’ve not watched nearly enough communist television. SWMBO comes from some Rumple-something detective show that was on PBS some years ago.
Sounds like you have a typical urban castrati, the only kind of man that can stand lefty shrews. Should I find myself driving a woman like you, I’d really have to fight to keep myself rrom turning into the nearest bridge abutment. Good thing you lefties don’t do much of that reproducing stuff.
John Mortimer, Rumpole of the Bailey. Books so funny you’ll laugh yourself sick. TV show hilarious even to pre-verbal toddlers.
SWMBO is what he called his eminently sensible wife. It’s a compliment. rilly.
and, art, how do you get from farm teen to communism? She’s married to a guy who can’t drive, not ‘can’t think.’ She’s reading this blog, and she put up a really funny story. I live near where a farm to market road turns into a normal road, so I can totally picture the traffic jam she described. It sounds like a hair-raising adventuretee.
And then there is the story of Rudolf Uhlenhaut, Mercedes chief designer in the 1950′s (he designed the famous 300SL Gullwing).
He used to drive to races where Mercedes was competing in his personal 300SL, often driving 150 mph on the Autobanns. His wife would ride with him, and knitted while he drove.
Some reporter asked her at one race how she could knit when riding in a car going that fast. Her response: “Because it makes me nervous to look outside.”
Aha! That is my secret.
On long trips my husband and I take turns driving. I can’t sleep or read in the car, so when he’s driving, I knit. It truly soothes whatever (totally irrational) nervousness I have.
My wife goes to sleep.
Nellie,
The Greyhound bus line has the “leaving the driving to us” jingle if I’m not mistaken. As long as your man is competent behind the wheel, just hum that ditty in your head (or take the bus instead).
OMG, he’s going 80 in a 75 zone?
That’s probably why he’s never had a ticket, dearie, he’s not actually speeding.