driving in cars with grandmas

Sitting in the passenger's seat while my 82 year old grandmother drives puts a whole new meaning to the words "awe" and "fear". If you were in the queue of cars behind us, I apologize.
"Nana, just so you know the speed limit is 80 on this road," I say sweetly.
"Oh, ok."
Continues to drive 65. A couple of times I feel the car speed up and glance hopefully at the speedometer, only to feel that horrible lurching feeling of the brakes being applied. Have I mentioned I'm sorry if you were behind us?
Next we get to the highway. It's a 4 lane, highway, not big, but clearly a highway.
"Is it 80 on this road?"
"No, it is 100."
"Oh. That's why all the cars are passing me."
Yes, that would be why.
When we get into town, we approach a round-about at a fairly steady clip, getting closer and closer to the black truck ahead, whose brake lights glow a foreboding red. Closer, closer, closer, my life flashes before my eyes and I think to myself "Well, there are worse ways to die", when she finally applies those wonderful brakes.
Next we approach a stoplight. We will be turning left, but the light is red.
"Where am I going?"
"Left."
Proceeds into intersection.
"Not on a red!" I can't help myself, but the light turns green and we continue driving.
"What was that, dear?"
I laugh nervously, "Oh nothing, I was just like, 'no, not..." The brakes make a comeback and we lurch to a stop. This exchange has taken only a matter of seconds, and we are smack in the middle of the intersection.
"No? Not left?" she questions in a panic.
"No! I mean, yes, left! GO!!"

We park and I go into a store while Nana waits in the car. When I come out and get in the car I tell her.
"Ok, Nana, you're going to go straight now and then turn right at the light."
"Oh, ok." She responds, and we pull on to the street.
"Ok, so see that light? You're going to turn right at that light." I say.
"Ok."
We pull up to the light.
"Ok, so where am I going?"
"Right."
"Ok."
Oi.

I won't even try to explain what happened when we got to the roundabout again and had to turn right twice within a matter of seconds. It was almost beyond us. We managed, however.

Later we get to the parking lot at Wal-Mart.

"I'm going to try to get nice and close," she says as we cut across parking spaces willy-nilly.
"Ok," I reply. I am not even bothering to watch for other cars at this point, I figure if I'm going to die, I don't want to see it coming.
"How about right here?" She asks. I open my eyes and find we are between two enormous trucks, a mile away from the entrance and with the nose of our car jutting out about 3 feet past the others.
"This is fine, Nana, but I think you need to back up just a smidge," I say when I have unlocked my jaw.

The ride home is much faster, though as I watch that scary white line on the side of the road get closer and closer to our tires, I'm wondering if we were better off communing with the snails.

We made it home. Safe and sound. I hope that when I'm 82 I can still drive a car, and will be willing to move to a new town "up north" after living in the same home for 30 years, to live with my son and his wife and their crazy radical daughter who has no job, isn't in school, and almost all her friends have moved away and left her.

Yes, I think my Nana's pretty cool, and I'm going to keep letting her drive. Life's short and I want to live it, and I want her to live it too.