Who Is Driving?

My husband and I live in Wuppertal, Germany. One day, I drove to a gas station to fill the tank. I went inside to pay and when I came out, I sat down in the front seat on the passenger side and waited. After a while, I realized: My husband was not with me. I was the driver!

I tried to cover up my mistake by pretending to look for something in the seat pocket, and then, with red ears, I walked around to the driver’s side, got in, and drove off.

Why does this happen? Because men always want to drive!

/D. Kampmann

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