The Old Coot Avoids Back-Seat Drivers!
By Merlin Lessler
Back-seat driving is a term you don’t hear
much anymore. It’s a throwback to the past, to the days when old-time comedian,
Milton Berle and his ilk, joked about their wives being back-seat drivers. The
men were at the controls, but she determined when to step on the brake, where
to turn and how fast to go. She was so fearful of his driving that she sat in
the back seat where it was safer.
It’s quite a sight to imagine, an
irritated old geezer with sweat pouring down his face and his wife huddled in
the back seat screeching orders at him. We’ve all experienced a back seat
driver at one time or another, though these days they don’t usually supervise
from over your shoulder; they do it from the seat next to you, buckled in and
protected by an air bag. Unfortunately, the more the back-seat driver
supervises, the worse we drive. We lose our ability to steer, brake and shift
in a safe and smooth fashion. “Turn left at the corner,” we’re told. “I know;
you don’t have to tell me,” we whine. “Well, you missed it the last time!” (Of
course I missed it; she didn’t tell me to turn.) We don’t need a back-seat
driver. It’s the other way around. Having a back seat driver turns us into bad
drivers; we miss turns, go too fast and put the brakes on at the last minute.
We unconsciously relinquish control, when our driving is supervised.
I do just fine when I’m by myself. I take
the correct route, I never get a speeding ticket, and I haven’t had an accident
in decades. Yet, when my “driving coach” gets in the car with me, my superb
driving skills slip out the door as she slams it shut. I adjust my style to
allow for the screeches and yells that will emanate from her side of the car. I
shift into a new gear, “L,” short for Lazy. I no longer pay attention to the
speedometer, the route or street signs. I’m not on the lookout for cyclists,
pedestrians or jaywalking deer. Shifting into Lazy isn’t a conscious thing; it
sort of happens on its own.
I’ve learned (sort of) to be compatible
with my driving supervisor. I guess things will change over time; I won’t even be
at the wheel. I’ll be perched in the back seat of a driverless car, doing some
screeching of my own.
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