This girl picked me up the other night and when she arrived, I hopped in her backseat like I had just ordered an Uber. At first she thought it was funny but quickly became mad at me, because I decided to sit in the back. She must suffer from amnesia and forgot that the last time I sat up front, I didn’t do much sitting. I looked like a paranoid New York City pigeon with my sporadic head movements, trying to address any potential and immediate danger.
I told her that maybe if she stopped driving through my neighborhood like she’s Cruella de vil looking for Dalmatian puppies to skin into a Peacoat, maybe I would consider sitting up front.
After my experience, I wouldn’t trust her driving me around in a Tin Lizzy at Darien Lake, let alone ride shotgun in her Scion with shotty mechanical work from an ex-boyfriend. Shes bragging about getting a bargain, meanwhile the guy probably loosened all the wheel bearings on her tires and put a kink in her break line after she bled the poor bastard dry.
The problem is that some women like to multitask while they are driving. You ever ride in the passenger seat with a girl who is trying to put on her Mascara while simultaneously trying to merge onto the interstate highway on-ramp going 60mph? You grip your seat so tight your knuckles turn white, you feel like you’re at the dentist getting a cavity drilled out of your skull.
If a girl has two glasses of Pinot Grigio at dinner and gets control of the AUX cord while she’s driving… there is a good chance you’ll be eating the dashboard for dessert. They call it, “riding shotgun” because a gun is the only comparable unit of measurement to describe how fast your body is going to go flying through the front windshield when she side swipes an SUV after trying to retake the same snapchat picture.