During our recent trip to England we were standing around chatting (sorry, I can't remember the exact circumstances) when the subject of our non stop car journey came up.
Jan was talking to one of her feminist friends (the multi-tasking variety) and happened to mention that I drove the whole way because, 'he's nervous when I drive. You can tell from his white knuckles! Ha ha.'
Being a pathetic male, of the broad shoulders variety, I let it pass but mentioned quietly afterwards that, if on a long journey I'm tired, then she's likely to be tired as well. A bit of the old, pathetic, male, common sense coming to the fore there, mes braves.
Anyway, about half way through the fourteen hour journey back I remembered Jan's kind sentiments and, because I felt sleepy, I asked her to drive for a bit. She was less than enthusiastic but agreed.
Being a kindly soul and sensitive to my truelove's feelings I sat on my hands so that she couldn't see my knuckles.
An hour or so later later, whilst sitting on my hands and listening to the radio, I noticed that the car had drifted over the rumble strips, at the side of the road (meant to wake you up in case you fall asleep), and was heading at about 90 degrees off the motorway. Being unable to contain my excitement I turned to her and woke her up.
Now, when I first met Jan she took great pains to mention that only women could multi-task and that men were generally the inferior species. I suspect that she had been talking a little too much to her feminist friends because 'my dears' I can say with all honesty that driving and staying awake is not one of those multi-tasks.
Not only did I save her life which, in my book, is worth a load of brownie points, and should keep me in maid service for the rest of my life, but I suspect she'll never mention my nervousness at her driving again. I rest my case.
She never even said, 'thank you - Sir!'
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