confessions of a backseat driver

Andrew is a terrific driver. On top of having a grasp on the arts of driving that my half-Korean genes have only experienced before in "Days of Thunder," he also knows Montana well, very well, and very much better than I do. I know all this and still, uncontrollably, against my will, I try to take the wheel. From my little throne six inches to the right on the center console, I cringe and I sigh and I bite my tongue until it erupts, "Maybe you should slow down"..."can you just not pass this ONE semi, we're already going fifty and it's raining."

So, yesterday as we were driving through the Madison Valley on a June afternoon, it came.

We had left Angry Birds at the house, so I had no choice but to watch the rain turn to more rain on the windshield. I start to play it out in my head, a bear or a moose just appears on the slick road in the rainy haze and we break, hydroplane, skid, fly, across the road. I won't go any further.

Now if this actually happened and I was driving, it would be a problem and that's why when it rains, Andrew always drives. But, this time, the more rain turned into a... BLIZZARD! (dun dun dun...) 

This blog is not only about a young couples journey across the US or our coming of age journey to a new city, it's also about love. <3 

Love is when we are driving through the Rocky Mountains and it starts to lightly snow and the ground gets dusted with less white than IHOP has on their pancakes, and Andrew lets me believe that its a Blizzard. He let's me believe that so that my backseat driving doesn't seem so irrational. So that, I don't have to feel crazy or handicapped about my fear of "weather" and driving. We climb a few feet in altitude and it gets a little bit worse and then as quick as it came, it starts to let off. By the time we are in VC the snow is gone and there is no trace. 

"Wow, wasn't that crazy, I mean that was crazy, right? I mean that was a blizzard, in June."

"Yeah, crazy."

"I mean a blizzard, right."

"I mean...I wouldn't really call it a blizzard"

"?..."

"No, baby, I mean it was a snowstorm"

That to me is love. Andrew knows that I only do it cause I'm looking out for us, even if that means I'm not seeing the danger clearly, or the lack of. It's his hands at the wheel, and I know he's looking out for us, eyes steady on the road ahead. Even when, he's the one who's making sure every mile that we're alright,  he's also with all the tenderness in the world making sure that I'm alright, and that I know that he loves me despite my backseat driving.