yesterday, i drove for the first time since arriving here in good ole' texas.
if you know me, you know that i prefer not to drive unless i know the area really well. i get drivers anxiety especially on the freeway.
but yesterday, my dad decided it was high time i got behind the wheel.
so, he came and picked me up from church and when i got out to the car, he got out and went to the passenger's side.
me: you're making me drive?
me: you're making me drive on the freeway... in my heels?
me: *gulp* okay, but you're going to have to tell me where to go.
dad: nope. pretend i'm dead.
me: so, you want me to drive on the freeway, in my heels, with a dead man in my front seat?
we made it home safely.
even though i drove. on the freeway. in my [stellar, purple] heels. with a semi-dead guy in the front seat. (he did come undead once to tell me i was getting off on the wrong exit.)
so, am i officially a texas driver now?
oh, heavens no.