Compelling reasons why I should have a chauffeur.

I'd like to take a moment here to acknowledge that

I've now made four (FOUR!) solo driving trips on the freeway to and from campus

with no disastrous consequences to speak of 

(knock on wood...seriously, do it).  

I'm always saying how terrible of a driver I am, but in case you

still think I'm just being modest...behold: proof of my shoddy driving history. 

Incident numero uno:

The Gravel Road Goof-up. 

A mere three days after I first got my driver's license,
 I had my first encounter with the ditch. 

I may or may not have been driving at an elevated speed on a gravel road.

If you're unfamiliar with gravel roads, you should know that those things are sneaky.

One second, they're solid; the next, they're all like,
"Oh, hey, I think I'm going to shift some rocks around underneath your tires."

Nighttime+gravel+surprise left turn=Andrea sliding into the ditch.

The ditch is not a fun place to be. 

Luckily, that time around, my car and I were able to be pulled out with no damage.

But then...


Incident numero dos:

Totaling the Taur Taur.
Just a few months later, I really blew it. I was coming around a bend in the
highway when my tires caught some loose gravel on the side of the road
(I'm telling you, that gravel stuff is pure evil).
I overcorrected. And then my car grew a mind of its own
and started swerving all over, back and forth across the road.
And just when I thought things were getting back under control,
the back end of the car fishtailed around and I started sliding off the road and down the ditch.
I was thinking, "Holy crap, I'm going to get in soo much trouble for this."
And then the car started rolling, and I thought,
"#@!%&*! I'm upside down!"
And then the car landed across an empty creek bed, like this:

And I tried to rush out of the car, just in case it was planning to explode or something,

and I scrambled up the side of the ditch in my cheerleading uniform
(it's like a scene from a lame movie, right?).
I was completely fine (except for a little whiplash)
but my poor car was a goner.
R.I.P. Taurus.
We miss your sunroof still.

Incident numero tres:
The Parked Car Predicament. 
I'll just get straight to the point with this one.
In college, I hit a parked car trying to pull into a parking spot at a Mexican restaurant.
And EVERYONE in the restaurant saw me through the front windows.
And Ryan had to sort things out with the woman who's
car I had hit, because I was bawling uncontrollably.
And then we went inside and ate dinner,
because not even that level of embarrassment can separate me from my Mexican food.

Incident numero cuatro:
The Snow Snafu.
I hate driving in snow. I have enough trouble driving on completely dry roads,
so throwing in cold, slick nastiness is just asking for trouble.
One Christmas Eve morning, we woke up to a redonkulous snow storm
and I was scheduled to go to work at the bank until noon.
It was about a half hour drive from our apartment, but I left a full hour early
because it was early in the morning and most of the roads hadn't been cleared yet.
I drove like a snail.
And I was cheering myself on in my head the entire time.
When I was almost there (so close that I could almost see the bank)
I started livening up, thinking, "I've done it! Great success!"
Then, out of nowhere, my car spins around
and slides into the ditch on the opposite side of the road.
I was late to work AND the money I made being there didn't even cover
the bill to get my car pulled out of the ditch.
But on the positive side, my thermos of coffee remained upright during that ditch trip.

So, that's my story. That, plus a few speeding tickets,
a few times when I may have accidentally missed a stop sign,
and a few wrong way jaunts down one ways streets.

If we ever strike it rich, the first thing we're splurging on is a chauffeur.