This doesn't answer the question in any way
But since I'm not the first to have a whinge about an other half I don't feel too bad.

The other week I drove us home from somewhere in Europe. It was an 8 hour drive all told, including half an hour in the channel tunnel, and the weather was utterly filthy. Freezing rain, sleet, spray, fog, it was vile. Because of my irrational dislike of polar bears I own a very large and inefficient car which helped keep my arse comfortable, but this was not an easy drive to the shops by a long shot.

The journey started off in a way that I'm sure many other men would recognise. Sure enough, almost as soon as I'd pulled out of our friend's drive, my gorgeous fiancee fell fast asleep with her head tilted back, her mouth wide open and her tongue lolling out like an overworked sheepdog. I was slightly worried I'd get pulled over for carting an obvious corpse around in my front seat, but perhaps the policemen could hear her snoring from outside.

Result. Peace and quiet for me. I got out my regulation driving music (dad rock) and settled in for a good long stretch with my thoughts. I absolutely love this; there's nothing better than a good, long drive alone to sort things out in your head. She grunted and snored her way through two Pink Floyd live CDs, the Allman Brothers at the Filmore East and The Band's first two albums. She only woke up when I got tired and put some Mastodon on; even so I thought it was a bit off for the cheeky wench to immediately ask me if we could have some silence for a bit as "you've had your music on for hours."

Grrr.

Anyway, annoying as that was, when I eventually got us home safely and well after a journey so epic and taxing I could write it up for the National Geographic, I told her I was putting my feet up and would she be a sweetheart and get me a beer (from the fridge, not even the shops.)

Oh no, no relaxing for James the fucking chauffeur. Despite my heroism in faultlessly guiding a hyper-complex, two and a half tonne machine powered by tiny explosions going off hundreds of times a second, at speeds nearly ten times faster than man has achieved at any previous point in his entire evolution, across four hundred miles of rain-soaked, foggy, unlit roads filled with benzedrine-addicted Albanian truckers and drunk Belgian Eurocrats, despite the danger that a microsecond's inattention posed, despite the almost unimaginably horrible death I'd prevented, countless times on the journey, while she snuffled in her sleep like a happy pig across four countries, I'd had it EASY.

"Being a passenger is just as hard you know. It's really boring! I'm just as tired by the drive as you are. Make me some dinner. Can you carry the bags downstairs? Feed the pets will you? They've missed you. I need a wee."

So, sexism? I suppose I clearly had my role here. Chivalrous knight, escorting fair maiden across dangerous ground. Sturdy porter, bearing any load with fortitude. Doormat, upon which dainty foot may be caressed clean.
( Scrumper, Tue 5 Jan 2010, 12:14, 7 replies)

The Golden Rule:
The driver makes the rules. They select the music and the environment (temperature etc). Any variance on this is at the sole discretion of the driver. This is a safety rule as much as anything else.

Course, once you're out of the car, you're on your own with being whipped.
(Richy_T hundreds if not thousands of dollars, Tue 5 Jan 2010, 15:55, closed)

ooh this.
My dad wondered why I went ape-shit when I suddenly noticed the car getting hotter.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Tue 5 Jan 2010, 17:00, closed)

click
For reminding me why I hate doing all the driving. My mrs claims she needs to have a shower after a road trip to wash away the "trail dust". She magically exits when all of the unpacking is finished.
(SkoaL, Tue 5 Jan 2010, 16:01, closed)

You are
Jeremy Clarkson. Surely?
(rockdoctor, Tue 5 Jan 2010, 17:52, closed)

It's not looking good for me I'll admit.
But no. The only similarity is the size of our beer bellies.
( Scrumper, Wed 6 Jan 2010, 12:25, closed)

My Mrs doesn't even drive
(something about a fear of roundabouts apparently) so consequently I do all of the driving all of the time.

However, as she has taken many lessons she does appreciate it can be somewhat taxing on the brain when you're driving for an extended period. So she usually cuts me some slack when we arrive anywhere.

Very good whinging by the way, have a click. And next time just make sure she is awake the whole time by wobbling the car with the steering wheel every time her head nods. Great fun.
( TheFinch is getting to grips with the complex plane on, Wed 6 Jan 2010, 14:52, closed)

Thanks
I do the wobble trick too but she sleeps through it now. You can also cause oscillations in the forward/backward plane with careful use of the accelerator. All kinds of fun to be had making her head flop around like Stephen Hawking in an earthquake. Only went wrong once when some muppet cut me up on the M4 as her head was moving forwards. She woke up then alright, after twatting her head on the dash.

Was a bit dangerous on this trip though.
( Scrumper, Thu 7 Jan 2010, 11:24, closed)