Road Test

After almost six months together, it was time to put Mr. Ex and I's relationship to the ultimate test. Circumstances had called for a necessary road trip. Now, I'm not talking three or four hours here. I'm talking 24 hours. That's right -- over 1,300 miles. Together. In one car. With nobody else. All alone. Just Mr. Ex, I-95 and myself.

It was the type of trip that could make or break a relationship.

Let me give you a little history here. When J-Fed and I were together, we couldn't drive to dinner without getting into a major blow-up and that was after less than 10 minutes in the car. For starters, I didn't like the way he drove. He considered the road his race course, not to mention he had a bit of road rage to boot.

I always found myself gripping the seat and counting backwards from 60 to ease the complete and utter anxiety that filled me when he got behind the wheel. Toward the end of our marriage, we usually took two separate cars wherever we went... and I was fine with that. With the cost of fuel these days, it's probably a good thing our marriage came to an end. Just think of what we would have spent on gas taking two cars EVERYWHERE.

So needless to say, when the subject of a road trip came up with Mr. Ex, I was a bit nervous to say the least. Suppose history started repeating itself? What if he transformed into J-Fed 2.0 a couple of hours into our 24-hour long road trip? Worry consumed me to say the least. Granted, everywhere that Mr. Ex and I went, he drove... and he drove well. He didn't have any anger issues and aside from his tendency to get a teeny, weeny bit too close to the cars in front of us sometimes, I felt confident in his driving abilities. In fact, on the rare occasion I did suck in my breath or clutch the dashboard, he laughed it off. He didn't get angry. He didn't call me a drama queen. He usually apologized. So I had high hopes for our trip.