Please Shut Up!

John has had enough of Amy's back-seat driving

By Amy Kean and John D. Schwartz

From The Bismarck Tribune - December 1921:
"A back-seat driver is the pest who sits on the rear cushions of a motor car and tells the driver what to do. He issues a lot of instructions, gives a lot of advice, offers no end of criticism. And doesn't do a bit of work."

(Source:  The Phrase Finder)



JOHN:  Like all men, I really HATE back-seat drivers. During my nearly 20-year driving career, I've encountered tons of them. And guess what? Every single one of them is a woman! Hands down, Amy is the worst back-seat driver. My own mother is a close second. And Amy's mother is a back-seat driver too. Come to think of it, every woman who has ever been in my car has been guilty. So what is it about females that makes them such know-it-alls when it comes to driving?

I'm the perfect, relaxed, trusting passenger. When I'm working as a cameraman on a movie, I'm perfectly comfortable riding in a crew van, driven by a 19-year-old intern who is smoking a cigarette, texting his girlfriend and changing the playlist on his iPod--all while weaving through New York City traffic. I'll just buckle up, read the paper, or look out the window. Why? Because, chances are, he knows how to drive! And THE LAST THING HE NEEDS is me chiming in with my two cents about how he should "watch out for that red truck!" or not "get too close to that skinny delivery guy on the bike!" He's looking out the same windshield I am, so why wouldn't he notice things like giant red trucks? He doesn't want to get into an accident any more then I do.

When it comes to Amy, the worst part is that she honestly thinks she's being helpful. When I'm calmly driving on the highway and I hear Amy suddenly gasp for air and then shriek in my ear, "John--WATCH OUT!" no matter what she's trying to tell me to watch out for, she's actually endangering us both. She might as well be shouting "BOO!" She makes me so tense!  

Moreover, Amy never offers to drive herself. For some reason, there is an unspoken rule between us that I do the driving and she supplies the criticism. Well I've had enough.  This driver is officially on strike.


AMY:  Truth is, I just can't help it. When you're speeding like a lunatic down the highway--late, as usual--for Christmas dinner, a wedding, or a flight, I can't stop myself from turning into a pesky back-seat driver. Trouble is, you're always unfolding a giant map, fiddling with the GPS machine, and eating a hot, sloppy meatball sub--all when you should be watching the road.

If it wasn't for me, and my nagging, we'd surely be dead by now.

The last bit you wrote, about the "unspoken rule" that you drive and I criticize is unfortunately true. I've had a license since I was sixteen, and I've always been a damn good driver. But somehow, I usually just let you drive. I don't even know why really. I know it's embarrassingly sexist for me to be the little wife, riding in the passenger seat. (Not to mention, it's downright stupid to let myself get rusty.) But I just feel like it's kind of sweet and old-fashioned to let my husband be in charge--at least in the car. I know it makes you feel like a man, right? It means I trust you with my life.

Hey, I wonder how many other women usually take the passenger seat, even though they can drive too. Most I think. Is it wrong? Is it right?

Should we all scream, "Hand over the keys!" to the men in our lives?

Maybe we should. We'd probably be safer.