I drove my grandmother and her caregiver home from my parents' house on Saturday night. My sister joined us for the trip. (At my grandmother's house, I looked through some photo albums and found awesome old pictures of my grandfather's relatives in Russia in 1914 and 1912.) When we got back, my sister said, "You drive like you are 15 and just got your permit." "What do you mean?" I said. I know I am not a great driver, but damn girl! That's harsh.
"For example, every time you made a right turn, you slowed down to the point where I wondered if we were moving. Actually, you just drive slow overall."
"Well I'm not used to driving," I said. Even 35 miles an hour seems really fast when you are not used to driving. It takes me a while to remember what fast feels like."
"Yeah, I'll just drive next time," she replied.
Thanks. (Incidentally, she got another good one off earlier that evening when she declared, "This is the craziest family I've ever been a part of." I adore my sister.)