I have a confession to make. Lately driving scares the bejeezus out of me. If I'm in the driver's seat I have random brief moments where I'll find I've spaced out to La La Land. I'll be Little Miss Space Cadet and the next thing you know I'm miles past where I once was, and not real sure of how long I've been out of it. Thanking the Good Lord that He kept me from wrecking. And when I try really Really REALLY hard to pay attention? Ya. Not a whole lot better. The cars that are flying towards me in the other lane make my heart skip a beat. They're going SO FAST. And all it takes is one minor nano glitch and they could wing me and I'd be toast! GAH!! I did used to be like this. Twin & I's first car was a 74 Plymouth Fury. It was a beast. A big beautiful beast. Can you say Indestructable? We'd cranky that baby up for all she was worth and she'd purr. I clipped a guard rail with that thing and she didn't even budge. I watched my passenger tire fly - hubccab first - across the road, and (after a bit of shaking) just chugged right on over. Not even one second of doubt in her. My pride and joy was my yellow Lancer. She was pretty. And fast. And could take a corner on a dime. And I loved to make her zoom zoom zoom. Loved it! I took her on snow, ice, rain, dirt... and she took it all in stride. Never did have issues with driving until the past few years. It could be because I've gotten spoiled and the Hubster does it all. He drives nice and safe, like all grandpa's should. No road rage there (unless it's me whining about why he's driving 65 in a 65). He always takes the safe option when it comes to driving. He'll let them go around. No sense in hurting the family! And up until recently I could tune him out. I'd wrap my head around a good book and I was set. But now it's not always that great. We live on the Oregon coast. Which means it's a beautiful 45 minute windy windy road back to a Town. And when there are 35 MPH corners, it means 35. He likes to test my nerves (and the kids delight) by being a Wild Man and going much faster. In fact if I see the speedometer going anything over 5 over the recommended Curvy Road Signs I start freaking out internally. It is not pretty. I turn white. My heart starts clenching. Palms get sweaty. I try to read, but then my motion sickness kicks in. He lets me drive most of the time, because he doesn't want me throwing up (I did that once - right out the truck window - without a warning - and he's been very careful to not re-live that). The kids, of course, hate it. Mom doesn't drive like Dad. Booo. Hiisssss. Don't let me lead you to believe it's Butch's driving only, cuz it's not. Pretty much all people that drive me places freak me out. Not sure why. Ironically enough Butch drives the safest of anyone I know. But lately I've still taken to panic attacks! Far cry from the girl who LOVED to ride the back of the (now ex) hubby's motorcycle down the I-5 corridor. It was AWESOME! Now the notion of climbing on the back of those terrorizes me! At the 4th of July my aunt & I climbed in the back of a jeep for some 4xing on the dunes. Also made me want to cry.
So I've looked it up. And this is what I've found...
Amaxophobia... the fear of riding in a car..... yep... I've turned into a 33 year old wuss. Ugh.
So I've looked it up. And this is what I've found...
Amaxophobia... the fear of riding in a car..... yep... I've turned into a 33 year old wuss. Ugh.
