My husband is The Driver. Oh, I can drive, but he will take possession of the keys for any journey he is on. He thinks he's above reproach. A flawless, excellent, even exemplary driver.
He is not. He is a fucking scary driver. Chopping and changing lanes on the motorway to dodge around other cars as if it's some kind of racing game. Going right up their arses as if they can't slam their feet on the brakes. Not indicating and thinking that he's perfectly safe, and that nobody else on the road will be so prickish as to not signal their intent to other drivers. Speeding, looking at his phone, undertaking...
And he has the audacity to be annoyed at me when I can't take it anymore and tell him to slow the fuck down, stop driving like he's in an action movie and prioritise the lives of the people in the car!
My dad is also a fucking scary driver. My sisters husband. My brother in law. My cousin. My friend. All of the scary drivers I've ever been in a car with have been men. The driver who smashed into my stationary car in traffic was a speeding man looking at his phone.
AIBU to think that maybe most men are not frightening reckless drivers but most frightening reckless drivers are men.