Driving used to seem so magical to my brother and I. To be in control of a giant metal machine that takes you anywhere you want go was just incredible. Our dad always drove in our family, and taught us how to handle the steering wheel and brake for emergencies. This just lead us to believe that only certain, special people could drive, and it was a special skill.
Boy were we wrong.
I think my brother and I are some of the most harsh critics when it comes to driving. It's pretty aggravating for our spouses, since we tend to drive "on the edge." We just have no patience for "bad" drivers. People who can't drive decisively, or are blatantly selfish assholes looking to get in a wreck, have been cursed many times over by the two of us.
My brother says that driving has lost its magic luster over the years. He's been jaded by terrible city drivers and tourists where he lives. Driving has become more of a chore to him.
Me, however? I still love to drive, really getting into the workings of the engine. I learned to drive in a stick-shift, so I definitely feel a deeper sense of involvement when handling a car. Just the other day, I had a water bottle in my cup holder, and found myself absentmindedly shifting it with the automatic transmission in Husband's car.
Driving is still somewhat magical to me, just in a different way.
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