therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings

In the category of questions I never had to ask when I lived in Chicago: what does one do at a four-way intersection with no stop or yield signs when another car arrives at the intersection from another direction at the same time? Who has to stop? Obviously, my response will always be "not me"--I'm always up for a game of chicken. One of many reasons Trent drives whenever we are both in the car.

Speaking of which: "Importance of driving compatibility to a relationship" is on the list of post topics I've jotted down. Trent and I were driving somewhere a couple weeks ago--or rather he was driving, of course--and he was telling me about a recent short road trip he took with someone who drove very slowly and cautiously. "tThat would drive me insane," I said. Trent agreed that it had indeed been very annoying. I have met the wife of the driver in question, and I reflected for a moment on what it must be like to be her. "I don't think I could be married to you if you drove like that. I think that would have been a dealbreaker."

A couple in a long-term relationship typically spends a lot of time in the car together. At least in this country. With the possible exception of New Yorkers. It could have a significant effect on a relationship if the parties have different ideas about the appropriate way to drive. I have been in cars with couples who were bickering about driving, and it was quite unpleasant. So I think driving compatibility should be part of the conversation in premarital discussions and counseling.

Fortunately, Trent used to drag race when a heedless youth, and he still tends to drive fast and aggressively, although he probably has more concern for safety these days. He is a good driver, as well as a fast driver. Which does not necessarily stop me from suggesting--in that special tone of voice that I didn't know I had until I'd been married for a while--that he slow down at times. For the most part, though, he drives fast enough even for me. It may be an understatement--at least according to Trent--to say that I am not a very patient woman, generally speaking. He is not always as aggressive as I would like--he doesn't, for example, try to drive people off the road when they attempt to pass him, to my chagrin--but that's probably for the best.

Of course, there is another side of the coin here. Trent doesn't like my driving, it must be acknowledged. But (a) no one likes my driving, not even me; and (b) there is a very simple solution--I don't drive when Trent's in the car, which pleases me as much as him. In fact, we recently drove for four days from Chicago to Port Angeles and I didn't get behind the wheel once. Here again, fortunately, Trent is well-suited to be married to me: scoffs at the idea that driving all day for several days (in December) might be hard. We were made for each other.

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