My hate hate relationship with driving

I have always hated driving. I inherited the phobia from my mother, who is one of the worst and most nervous drivers I have ever had the pleasure of riding with. Trucks passing, driving at night, having to switch lanes on the freeway -- all of these "normal" activities is an event in my mother's eyes.

It's no wonder that I have lived in fear of the road since I was 16. After high school, I pretty much ceased driving altogether. I am sure that my friends did not appreciate all of the rides to Target and trips to the airport that I made them take, but it was all in a good faith effort to avoid my phobia.

Unfortunately, life in the Bay Area is not kind to the carless (unless you live in San Francisco). So, this week, in addition to starting my new job, I purchased my first automobile (a '97 Volvo). This thing is a fucking TANK. It's a good thing too, since I accidentally wound up driving over the Bay Bridge into SF when I was aiming to go to Berkeley. I am still trying to figure out how this happened.

You know the scene in Clueless, when Cher gets on the freeway? Yep, that's basically me on the road, with perhaps a bit less hysterical shouting.