My grandmother is a horrible driver. We got into the car on Saturday to go to the bank, and I honestly thought that I wouldn't get out of the car without the help of the Jaws of Life.

First of all, she frequently confuses "drive" and "reverse," and sometimes "neutral" gets thrown in there, all to the conclusion of "Oh, my." "Oh, my," indeed. I mean, really, it's a big problem. It happens all the time. She's almost hit five parked cars since I've been here, and almost slammed into the garage when trying to back out of the driveway at least three times.

Speaking of which, when she backs out, she backs onto the main road about fifteen to twenty feet past where a normal person would stop, pauses, and ever so sl o  o   o    o     w     l     y takes the car into neutral (and sometimes stops there). . . . ...... .. ... ... .. . . . . . and then drive. Sometimes the cars patiently wait. I am thankful for these times, because when people have to wait for her, they honk, and she ignores it. Did they just got fired from their job, waiting for some innocent old lady to piss them off enough for them to snap and get out the crossbow in their trunk? I DON'T KNOW, BUT I DON'T WANT TO FIND OUT, GRANDMA.

She's scared to use the horn, as well. Today we were leaving the post office parking lot, which, by the way, is designed by someone who clearly was trying to accomplish a) an eight-car pileup, b) a nine-car pileup, c) mass chaos, d) a & c, or e) b & c. So we're trying to leave, two cars in spots ahead of us are trying to pull out, and there's this random red SUV to our left, just chilling by the curb, who decides to reverse and let one of the cars out of their spots.... straight towards us. Grandma sits silently, watching all of this unfold, and inching forward, as Red SUV heads straight for us. She lets out kind of a tiny "Eek!" as Red SUV is about to crash into the front of the car. "HONK THE HORN," I say with as much calm in my voice as I can muster. She taps it lightly, and I reach across and pound it, saving us thousands of dollars by mere seconds.

Not even twenty seconds later, the car closest to us starts backing up, aiming straight for the passenger door. Me. Grandma glances towards it and sits there, watching Red SUV cautiously. The car comes barreling towards us. The taillights blink at me threateningly. "I'm coming for you," they say to me. "This is it, Anniemosity." "Ggggggrandma!" I shriek (but again, as calmly as possible). "HORN." She snaps her head towards me and lays on the horn so ferociously, like I've only seen Samantha Scott do. I guess she just never does it, so when this twice-in-one-day shit happens, she goes crazy. Jesus.

In addition to all this, if she can make it to the road without killing someone, she swerves all over the road. To wit, if she makes a left turn, she makes a hella wide left turn, and then yanks the car sharply right to get the car back on course, but naturally, she has pulled it too far, so she pulls it back left, but much too hard, so she pulls it back right.... this horrific and dangerous event continues far down the road, a comical length. (It's actually quite hilarious if you take out of the equation the fact that I MAY DIE.)

This woman's drivers license needs to be taken from her and sacrificed to the gods of safe driving and caution. And yet all she does around dinner on days we have ventured away from the house is grumble about how people don't know how to drive.