The long drop to her driver’s seat jarred her teeth. In the lower position, her eyes were level with the top of the steering wheel, her knees brushed the bottom of the wheel. It shouldn’t have surprised her, since her husband drove her car the day before.
Grabbing the seat’s adjustment lever, she yanked on the handle with so much force she was sure it would break off in her hand. Resetting the back of her seat more upright, she wondered anew how her Mister could drive lying back so far. Their son adopted the same laid back posture, so no matter which of her menfolk last drove her car, the seat was practically in a full supine position.
MIrrors! Couldn’t her mirrors be off-limits, at least the side ones? The final insult was having to set the night position on her rearview mirror. She preferred an up flip, while her husband insisted a down flip was correct. Hell’s Bells! It was her car, she could put the mirror wherever she wanted. He didn’t even have to drive it at night.
It drove her crazy having to go through all these mechanizations on her own car, every time someone else drove it.
Putting the final fix in before starting her car, she fantasized about raiding the cars of her son and husband, and messing with their mirrors, and seats, then setting all their radio stations to Muzak.
After a ten minute delay, she backed out of the driveway, turning right toward town. It was grocery day, and she hoped to get what she needed and keep to her $50 budget.
Living paycheck to paycheck was exhausting. Watching every penny, consulting bank balances prior to every purchase, continuously reminding her menfolk to not go overboard when working on their cars. “Just what you need to keep it running.”
It was no wonder she was proprietary toward the one vehicle she drove most often – the one that didn’t require constant maintenance and repairs.
Heading up the boulevard toward the shopping district, she slowed for the four-way stop at the top of the hill. Checking left and right to make sure the way was clear, she pulled through the intersection.
The last thing she remembered was the flash of red in her left periphery, then breaking glass and screeching metal. Several airbags deployed simultaneously, white powder exploding inside the car. Her glasses were swept from her face, leaving her virtually blind. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and she could feel her left knee snap as the driver side door buckled.
Before losing consciousness, her only thought was, “shit, I hope insurance pays for this.”
Thin spiral notebook 
So as I feel my frustration mount thinking about all the times I’ve had to readjust seats and mirrors, I come to the conclusion of your story and think, yes, I would think that way too. I might say something stronger that shit, too. However, when I gained consciousness, then I would freak. I did suspect the ending when I read the words, “checking left and right.” I do have to say, though, when I get in the car and my husband’s been driving, I feel like a kid playing adult driver. My feet don’t reach the pedals (he’s 8.5 inches taller than me) and the seat is so low, I have to tilt my head up to see through the windshield. Can you tell I relate to this story?
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Haha…I could feel this. Probably because I’ve lived some of the aggravation. My husband is famous for sticking papers in the folded up visor (because he doesn’t use them). So when I flip them down, papers fall all over the place. Surprised I haven’t wrecked yet! Oh, and I’ve forbidden him from drinking coffee in my car. He kept spilling it and I got tired of cleaning it up. (I know it wasn’t me because I don’t drink coffee.)
Oh boy. Perhaps I have some pent up anger here 🙂
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That’s it sistah friend… let it all out. Looks like I struck a cord with this pet peeve.
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Deana is an inch taller than me and the teenager is only 5’2″. So when we swap out each other’s cars, the seat and mirror adjustments are a big deal. I’m surprised they haven’t cut me in my sleep over this.
well written per usual…love the passion
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It could be “grounds.” Messing with my mirrors makes me more twitchy than leaving the seat up.
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Yep, really annoying, especially as my legs are so much shorter than his. Even when I’m driving and he’s a passenger, he loves to play with all the little knobs and buttons or change the radio station. Still, we love our men don’t we.
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I’m actually a smidge taller than my husband, but he likes being farther back than I do. I don’t get how he can drive comfortably with the seat in the position he puts it. But… yes, we do still love them. Annoying idiosyncrasies and all.
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My husband does this too and it makes me furious! I think because it’s just so selfish and thoughtless and rude! Whew. I feel better now. Great post. 🙂
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Yes! Because I know, they both (my menfolk) would complain if I did all the things in their cars, that they do to mine.
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