March 11, 2004
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Oooops
So this morning I was doing my usual maneuvering in our not-quite-regularly-arranged corporate 'parking lot' (unpaved area without any lane demarcation) when I noticed, out of my rearview mirror, that somebody had thoughtfully avoided my attempts to blindly sideswipe him, and was proceeding calmly on without giving me a chance to wave a thankful hand or show my red face. Had anything occurred, at parking-lot speeds it would probably have been more embarrassing that life-threatening (Him to his spouse: "Yeah, Faith smeared out our van this morning." His spouse: "That's a bummer. How good is her insurance?" Fully covered, I will hasten to say).
I would hope this sort of idiocy is categorizable into the "minor lapses of judgment" folder rather than the "perennially bad driver" slot. Either through blind luck and the care of others, like today, or through something less happenstance, my "driving oops" record to date is fairly short. It includes one very nasty one-car icy-road smash-up (no passengers; myself only temporarily shaken) and one or two this-and-that's (wrong way on one-way road as a youngster; car apparently abandoned in the local park as a teen -- until the policeman's flashlight discovered me and, er, a friend, in some state of disarray, in the back seat........the latter, of course, not being a driving oops. More-or-less).
Moments like this morning's give me pause, though. I relate it in part to a recent conversation with my boss, in which he went on at great length about his own prowess and incredible insight during his recent difficult trip overseas for a multi-cultural negotiating session. In my opinion, my boss is a very, very smart man. I wonder, though, whether his opinion of his intellectual capacity isn't perhaps beginning to exceed reality. But I don't want to call him on it. Right now, flush with his victories, it would be rude; later on, it won't be the right moment. In truth, it will never quite be the right moment.
But should it be? Wouldn't it be better if, every now and then, for purely selfless reasons, someone would tell us the truth about our own self-perceptions? Not every day. Just every now and then.
Some people don't want to hear that, of course. But me, I think maybe it would do me good. Perhaps I should even advertise that I'm available for input:
Comments (7)
You're a lousy driver, and you're not nearly as clever as you think you are.
And my mother used to tell me how selfish I was. I bet she never thought I would be capable of such a selfless act!
Any time I can be of service, don't hesitate to ask!
Peace.
I suppose your driving is just fine. I have read things from you in the past and I always enjoyed it.
So much for me to work with here, but, holding true to my gender; I want to hear more about the back seat in the park incidence.
But seriously...no, wait, I was serious.
This morning was probably not a result of poor driving skills, but rather a harder truth; too much to think about and (the biggy) age. Sorry, but as a fellow middle ager I must assume the role of bearer of cold, hard truths. Remember, don't kill the messenger.
Everybody can benefit from eating some humble pie from time to time. Kids are great for filling this role. Boss's time may be soon to come.
If you drive at least half as good as you blog, I'd ride with you.
I'm calling shotgun. Where will you drive us next? Blessings.
What wildcane said.
(Just ignore my foot tapping on the imaginary brakes....)
Your driving is better than mine. A lapse of attentiveness cost my insurance company $9000 back in September (and me $150).
Comments are closed.