BD Anonymous

I just confessed one of my deepest, darkest secrets to my prayer partner. It came up as I was sharing with her my ex-husband's recent run in with the LAPD due to his motor vehicle mishaps. I told her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth:

"I'm a bad driver, and I know it...but the worst part is, I DON'T CARE!"

I told her that I often change lanes without signaling. I make illegal u-turns (thanks to the street layout of NO which virtually eliminates left turns and requires u-turns...they've even invented a new word for it...a U-ey [pronounced "U-EEEE" as I make the turn with the front seat passenger screaming as they simultaneously see their life pass before their eyes with cars in oncoming traffic barreling toward them). I average 1 recordable moving violation a year. And the damage I've done to inanimate objects is...embarrassing!

Yes, I've hit my own washer while backing into the garage. Even though I try to blame it on my condition of early stage glaucoma (which was first diagnosed while I was pregnant with my son...it was confirmed two years ago at my annual eye exam), I know I dented the darn appliance because I'm a bad driver. It's obvious when you stand in my garage and look off to your right and see the damage I did to the wall in my garage (also while backing in late one night). It's a nice piece of sheet rock that fell to the floor, exposing the underlying frame of the wall to the whole world every time I open the garage door.

Let's not even talk about the numerous times I should've ended up in court for damage I've done to other people's cars (was that car really parked as closely as it appeared?). And I don't even want to talk about the plethora of speeding tickets I've received since I was first given a license at 16 (thank God it's a sin to actually pay a ticket in Louisiana...most of them have been "fixed"). Oh, and why did I not get my license until I was 16 when I could've gotten my learner's permit at 15? Oh yeah, I flunked my driver's test 3 times before I finally managed to eek out a passing exam score (I got around the road test by taking driver's ed, which exempted me from that portion). Yes, I'm a bad driver, and I know it. But more importantly, I don't care! The last time I hosted sisters' weekend for my sisters, I was driving and cut someone off. My sister who lives in ATL said, "Njeri! Where did you get your license?! K-Mart?!" If she only knew.

My prayer partner half-laughed & half-cried when I shared all of this with her. She just got her license for the first time just under a year ago (she's 29, Baptist, and comes from a typicaly black over-protective single parent home). I didn't tell her this, but it might have added some perspective: My sister with who had the brain aneurysm rupture in Nov. 2002 was the first one to teach me how to drive becaue she was too drunk to drive us home after a party my parents sent me along with her too as insurance. At the end of it all, she thanked me for letting her know about my deadly flaw. She then suggested I start a support group.

"Hi. My name is Njeri, and I'm a bad driver," [say it with me] "Hi, Njeri!"

She then continued, "Let me know the next time you decide to get into your instrument of death. Wait a minute...I've riden in a car with you before...you did fine...and you were looking for a cd at the time!" Need I say more?