A friend recently said you must always find the test you need to give a guy to make sure he has what you need to be your life partner. I started thinking about it, and I know exactly what she means.
For me, how a guy drives says it all. I need a strong, fast driver, with accuracy at the wheel. Someone who would never lose his temper at another driver. He would just leave them in the dust. He would pick the right lane and have an E-ZPass card in his pocket at all times in case we rented a car, or took mine instead of his. He would know how to get places, or ask for directions with ease, neither embarrassed nor pointing his finger whilst receiving said directions.
I had a boyfriend, who I look back on now and laugh about. I should have known he was a loser while I was dating him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t see beyond the Al Pacino looks. The biggest tip-off, however, was the way he drove.
“Did you see that guy? He cut me off!”
He handed me his apple peel, licked his fingers, and put them back on the wheel.
Little old ladies passed us in no passing zones.
“Can you believe ‘we’ picked the slowest line?”
I think somewhere underneath I wanted him to be a different guy in general, so I gave him Skip Barber Driving School in Arizona for Christmas one year. It’s a three-day course on the racetrack where you drive at lightning speed with a helmet on. You graduate after the course with a certificate.
“This is interesting,” he said when opening the card with the information in it. “It sounds like an adventure. I can do this. Do you think I can do this?”
He called after the first afternoon’s intro class.
“Our teacher hates me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. Why do you say that?”
“I can tell. He ignores me now when I put my hand up. I’m the only one asking questions, and I think he doesn’t like questions.”
“And, I could see he didn’t like my answer to the question about what car we each own. Everyone went around the room with answers like ’a fifties souped-up Mustang’ or ‘a Trans Am.’”
“What do you say?” I asked the question because he didn’t own a car, we used mine all the time. Which, by the way, was indicative of everything about what we did. I either paid for it or owned it.
“When he got to me, I said, ‘I take public transportation.’ And then, I looked over at him and he was rolling his eyes.”
I didn’t hear much from him the next two days. I went to his apartment when he got home and he was all abuzz about the course.
“God, it was great. They gave us these amazing cars to drive, and we wore driving clothes and I really got the hang of it. Look, I already hung my picture.”
I went over to the wall and there was a picture of him next to a race car with his helmet tucked under his arm, and a huge smile. He looked really handsome. Then I read the following underneath the picture, “He Whomever completed the three-day race car driving school at our Arizona racetrack. He was clocked going 57 miles an hour on his fastest lap.” I read it again, “Fifty-seven miles an hour.”
I turned to him. I looked at him. I looked at the picture.
“The fastest you went on the race course was fifty-seven miles an hour?”
His face fell, and I didn’t even feel bad.
“Yes, fast driving person, I was the slowest in the class. But they all drive a lot. Yes, they had to clear the track when I went around it so people didn’t pass me, okay? I feel really good about my performance. Jim, our instructor said I did great, and I didn’t need to do a second lap! You always ruin everything!”
I’m sure you are not surprised to hear we didn’t end up together. I should have broken up with him when the old lady passed us in the no passing zone and he yelled at her. I should have left him after the apple incident. I should have left him when he got lost and anxious. Actually, I should have broken up with him when all of my friends said he was a leech loser.
Take a look at the way the man in your life drives a car. Make sure it’s compatible with your own driving patterns. This could save you a lot of heartache and bad choices.