Driving makes people mean

I am a woman driver. Why is it that when I make that very statement people assume I am a bad driver? I am in fact a magnificent driver. I haven't had a ticket since I was 19 and I've never had an accident. (Besides the time that my car rolled down a hill then up a curb and crashed itself into a tree. That was not really my fault since I just innocently forgot to set the parking brake)

My husband is a male driver. He likes to pride himself as having mastered the art of driving precision. The other night while we were out and about I realized he was driving a little too erratically for my comfort level. When my imaginary passenger side brakes failed me, I politely requested that he should slow down. He then snapped back with, "Listen woman, I am a trained pilot. I have supreme awareness of my entire surrounding. I could state the make and model of each car on this road and anticipate their next move. You should feel privileged to be driven by me."

My jaw was sitting in my lap. Did I marry a delusional Maverick wannabe? Did our Ford Edge just transform into a fighter Jet? My mind instantly shot back to when we first met and he played Top Gun for me the first time. He knew every line in that movie. Why didn't I see the red flag?

Ready for takeoff

Anyway, we made it safely to our destination, the grocery store. The place where everyday people are pushing around large carts through narrow aisles while looking every direction but forward. Needless to say, lots of little cart crashes and accidental ankle bumps occur during every visit. Yet people (my husband) are so polite after a crash or near crash. "Oh pardon me, haha, I am so clumsy with this thing! Excuse my reach while I grab the fresh milk in back." Then these same silly lovable clumsy people (my husband) pack their cars up with groceries and take off.

He began driving us out of the parking lot and we were suddenly in the Jet again. While waiting  to turn left for what he decided was too long, he slammed the gas pedal and took off. He didn't properly gauge the torque of the Edge and ended up completely cutting off some poor guy. He realized that the guy swerved to get around the stupid car that had just cut him off (us) and then my husband lost his mind. He rolled down his window and proceeded to flip the guy off and yell an obscene comment at him. The guy was so confused yelling back at us trying to simultaneously defend his innocence and cuss us out at the same time. I was baffled. What on earth is wrong with my husband? I called him a looney tune in as many ways possible until we pulled up to our house. He got out, began to unpack the car and looked over at me with puppy eyes, "You know what, I just ruined that guys night for no reason at all. I feel terrible, it was completely my fault."

Conclusion: Driving makes people (my husband) mean

With a face like that, all is forgiven

Til we meet again, Maverick