When I was dating my husband – all starry-eyed and flushed with relief that it was possible for an over-age-fifty woman to find love again – our driving styles were the last thing on my mind. As time has gone by, the adrenaline rush of new-marriage, new-season-of-life has worn off, and the less visible irks exposed by living together are beginning to unfold. One small, tiny irk is my consternation over our different driving habits. I am somewhat of a female Paul Newman (in my fantasies), and have always loved low-slung, road-worthy vehicles that will effortlessly hug a corner and then... Read More

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