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My Steering Wheel

Posted in ChickTwenty

No one knows me like my steering wheel. No one experiences my raw, irrational emotions like my steering wheel. She has seen me at my best and at my worst.

As someone who drives quite a bit for work, I spend a lot of time holding hands with “Steery.” She must get a kick out of my inconsistent attire and make up each day I enter the vehicle. Sometimes I throw my purse in and pull out of the driveway like an unattractive Danika Patrick, but with far less skill rushing to the gym or making a last minute burrito run. Other times, she must know I have an important meeting as I gently place my belongings in the seat next to me and delicately sit down, so as not to wrinkle my dress. Steery hates it when I forget breakfast on workdays and stop at Starbucks. Chances are she will be covered in crumbs and the trash will be tossed all over her room. She hates messes, but she puts up with them for me.

Poor Steery also despises traffic. She knows that with traffic comes unpleasant scenarios. In the morning, she is whipped around like a Raggedy Ann doll in the hands of a three year old. She’s jerked around so much she’s usually dizzy within 20 minutes. Not to mention chances are I am cursing, yelling or flipping off old timers and texters. She’s heard it a thousand times, “What is so important you have to text in traffic?!” or “Why are you in the left lane, Asshooooooole?” Although, she will take my mornings over my evenings any day.

Steery gets worried when I am driving home from work. She knows that my day tends to slip away from me and I often skip lunch. Those days are the worst- skipping lunch means that I might fall asleep driving home. Unfortunately, she often falls victim to the windows rolled down (even on a hot day) and music blasting from the speakers. On the bright side, if I am sleepy, at least I am not whipping around as if it is a morning drive. However, she does her best in helping me call family members using her Bluetooth mic button. She knows to call my dad when I am tired. He is pretty funny and can keep me awake with his silly jokes.

And then there are the “bad days,” when my day gets out of hand, my job gets too overwhelming and I cry. I would never let any coworkers see me cry. I am strong. I am woman. But Steery sees me. She hears me cry and feels my pain. She knows it won’t always be like this and encourages me to just keep driving forward. She uses her Bluetooth mic button to help me call my mom on these days. She knows there is no one else who can calm me down like my mom. If Steery had any tissues to offer me, I know she would in an instant, even though I would use it and just toss it in the backseat. She may not have tissues, but she holds my hands. She is just there to guide me through the madness without passing judgement. I love her.

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