emily’s rules of the road
With fear and my hand clutching the GPS, I began driving the seven hours home to Nebraska from school. I am a junior and my last trip home was the first time I didn’t take my GPS, but I survived. A lot of people think seven hours is a lot to drive but it is not too bad. For about four hours, I fall completely in love with myself, my wit, my intelligence, my singing voice. I have to ask myself “Do people realize how great I truly am?” The last three hours kind of drag.
I recently started listening to books on tape while I drive. I feel like the dumber the better. They would be classified as chick books. The top two adverbs are incredulously and surreptitiously. When I go home, I always mention how I am listening to books while I drive to relatives. Of course they always ask what they are about. Shamefully, I admit, “Well this girl just married this gay man so he could stay in the country with his lover and now 10 years later she is engaged and never got a divorce or it starts with this girl sleeping with her best friend’s finace on her 30th birthday.” Even worse while I getting my ticket through the toll. My speakers rejoiced loudly in front of the toll lady with “Then we made love slowly, switching positions.”
When I get really bored, I make up stories with names on the signs. Segdwick the elephant, and his friend Mulvane. Calling people is always nice too. After a long conversation I think, “Was I driving that whole time? Because I don’t remember anything.”
Some quick things, QT’s are the best place to stop. I prefer paper towels to hand dryers, except for the Xclelerater which I imagine if you put your face under it, it is like astronaut training.