oy.

My father's driving makes me a little nuts as a passenger.  And now, having followed him from Ann Arbor to Cleveland in another car, I can report that it drives me crazy as a driver as well.  But mainly, really, as a daughter.  Besides following too close, braking too late, changing lanes without signalling (in fairness:  less of this when someone is following him), riding in the right side of the lane and occasionally drifting slightly over the line into the next, he drives much too fast -- which, when you're following him because you don't exactly know the way, means you're the one the state trooper is likely to pull over for speeding.

Fortunately, when you tell the trooper you were trying to keep up with your dad because it's a route you're not familiar with (okay, truth:  you're on the OH Turnpike and all you have to do is find 480 East, but at the same time, you don't normally venture much further west than Cleveland, so you have not in fact told a lie), he lets you off with a (written) warning.  Which you tell your dad about once you get home, because he didn't stop when you got pulled over.  In fact he didn't notice you weren't behind him until like five miles later.

Wah!

DCfolk

Here I come!