The myth of women drivers.

There is possibly nothing more straining on my relationship of three years than when its my turn to drive. We both avoid this occurance like the bubonic plague. Firstly, I should point out I am a fantastic driver, there is no dent in the boot of my ka, who is affectionately called Dave. His clio had a nasty run in with an illegally parked land rover and a careless reverse. For the three years I have been let loose on the road I have never had a crash or breakdown, touch wood. But nevertheless, men become rather chauvanists around cars. "bloody women drivers" seems to be the general consensus.

My superb parking.

Usually, I love driving. I plug my ipod shuffle into my old school cassette player and Dave becomes a portable disco and kareoke bar. I've honed my opera skills to (in my subjective opinion) perfection. I am quite aware that I look an absolute tit when driving as I probably appear to be shouting animatedly to myself.

But the second my boyfriend gets in the car tensions rise. He will spend the whole journey praying loudly for his safety, screaming "oh my god you nearly killed us woman" at regular intervals. In my defence, how am you supposed to concentrate when there's a hyperchondriac whinging next to you? Also his unappreciation for my excellent music taste puts me off my game.

There is also the small issue of my geographical awareness. If you were to put me in my home town and spin me around I would be lost. I subsquently spend half the journey crying that I'm lost. So picture a grown 6ft man, screaming for his life, "what are you doing woman?" Hanging frantically onto the dashboard. And then me yelling "where the hell are we?", taking an hour to make a ten minute journey, and interrupting any conversation to belt out a dashboard confessionals number. Now you have a basic insight onto how road trips with me as the driver are for my boyfriend.

I guess its part of the male DNA to be terrified of female drivers and to find it impossible to relax in the passengers seat. I feel I should reasssure him that I don't intend to kill us, and if you still don't like it, take the bus.

But just when I start to consider the idea that I may actually be a terrible driver, I ask jono to drive Dave up to chester for me, as I don't feel confident enough to make such a long journey safely myself. I say goodbye and relax knowing he will get Dave safetly up north as he's so confident and experienced, I turn around, reassured, to wave good bye, only to find him driving the wrong way down a one way street...