on why my license should be revoked

I almost hit a wild turkey today. Almost. See, I would have, but I only hit stationary objects.

Think of every single negative behavior associated with female drivers (spacing out, an inability to park, the tendency of getting into a disproportionate number of accidents, etc.). I lend some serious credibility to this stereotype. A small segment of my impressive driving record includes: hitting various objects including (but not limited to) a squirrel, gas station post, countless shopping carts, countless curbs/medians, 3 parked cars, 1 boulder( next time you notice something that's dented, it's safe to assume that I've marked my territory), running out of various fluids necessary for operating the vehicle (windshield wiper fluid, gasoline, transmission fluid) and perhaps my claim to fame: I once drove 15 miles on the highway, going 65-70 miles per hour with three tires. The fourth wasn't flat. It was gone. When I arrived home, all that remained was the wheel and some rubber that had melted onto it. And no, I didn't notice while on the road.

Yep, I suck at driving. It's not something I'm proud of, but I will admit it. I've heard that's the first step to recovery in some circles, but I think driver's education is probably the appropriate solution in my case. I try to drive as little as possible in an effort to avoid a mishap and perhaps more importantly, the ridicule that usually follows such an incident. I took the train when I worked at CX, and relocated when my lease was up so that it was within walking distance. I gave up that commute to work at XXX. At the time, it seemed like the right move (ha!), and the drive was something I'd be willing to do to advance my career (HAHA!). Regardless, the roads haven't been the same since.

The drive consists of 40 minutes worth of windy, hilly roads--most of them in a heavily wooded area. So in addition to the typical obstacles (squirrels, trees, guardrails, children), larger objects come into play. These bonus objects tend to consist of deer (lots and lots of deer), turkeys (also growing in numbers) and felled trees. The deer issue can be attributed to the fact that the towns en route to work don't believe in culling them. Why do something humane like shoot them, when you can hit them with your car? I hardly think death is instantaneous in most cases, and then there's the obvious damage to the car and possibly to the car's occupants. The turkey issue is beyond my comprehension, but it does answer the question, "Why did the turkey cross the road?" The possible answers are, "To piss me off,"To cause cars to parkin the middle of the road to admire the fowl" (these are the same people who oppose deer-hunting) or "To necessitate swerving and/or braking hard," rather than, "To prove he wasn't chicken." As for the trees, I guess they just don't make 'em like they used to.

I spend a majority of this daily commute on autopilot (not much different than my work day). When someone asks me for directions, I respond with a blank stare. I have no idea which streets I navigate, which towns I'm passing through or even notable landmarks. I remember stupid things. I could tell you that each morning, I pass an Asian man walking on the first non-highway leg of my trip. I could tell you that this guy picked up a walking partner this week, and didn't wear his visor. I could not, however, tell you the name of the street he walks (and I drive) on. I could tell you that I pass a house that puts hats on the fir trees in their front yard. There are five of these trees, and this week they are wearing Robin Hood hats (feather and all). Last week, it was birthday hats, and for most of the month of June, mortar boards. What I can't tell you is the name of the town the hat-wearing conifers hail from. I pass a newly built house on my right each morning, and the realtor representing the property is Tom Thomas. I find his name annoying, but I couldn't tell you what color the house is. I also pass a cranberry-red mustang every day, and I use him as a guage of how late I'm going to be.

Somehow, I get to work.

On day 1, my coworkers urged me to pay close attention during my morning commute as this is when the deer are running amok. First of all, paying attention to anything that isn't either within hitting distance of my car (as in it's too late! smash/splat/whatever) or completely weird (trees that wear hats???) while driving is going to be nearly impossible, as I'm the stereotypical woman driver. Secondly, paying attention to ANYTHING in the morning is asking a lot. In addition to closely monitoring my surroundings, you expect me to do so while my eyes are half shut and I'm trying to apply mascara with one hand and alternating unwrapping a granola bar and fiddling with radio dials with the other? I've actually gotten into the shower with socks on before. Fortunately, my experience has proven otherwise--the fauna tend to creep/jump/trot across the road on my way home since I'm usually running a little behind in the morning. This works out best for all parties involved, as I'm caffeinated and focused (sort of) on the road as I want to get home ASAP. The only thing to get between me and the comfort of my bed is nature, and today was one of those days. Ahab had the great white whale, I have the ugly-ass turkeys. More and more of them are lining the streets and consequently slowing down the Jetta's voyage home. Theoretically, these things can fly so I'm convinced they're doing this out of spite. These birds are immune to horn beeping (not that my honk is overly intimidating--it sounds like Roadrunner), and as ugly as they are, I can't bring myself to hit one on purpose as I'm an animal lover (an animal lover who happens to believe in culling deer), and there's the added danger of strength in numbers. I'm reduced to brooding in my car as Tom Turkey struts his stuff, shakin' those tailfeathers and bobbing his hideous head. Today, however, Tom launched a sneak attack and emerged from some high grass as I drove up, forcing me to swerve or smack him. His surprise offensive startled me and caused me to risk life and limb to avoid 18 pounds of feathers (this, despite the fact that I was armed with 2800 pounds of steel). I swerved, and it was a blessing that there was no oncoming traffic.

If nothing else, I learned today that the turkey has proven itself to be the superior species. That, and perhaps I have no business driving.