It's a given that men tend to be the major drivers in families, as we like to drive and many women don't. Or to be more truthful, we feel it's safer if we drive, and my wife for one would not dispute that – she's nervous about venturing any further herself than the Lidl car park.
But like every other dad with a car loaded with kids, wife and luggage, I've had my fair share of rows along the lines of "Why don't you stop and look at the map," and "I told you the Blackwall Tunnel would be at standstill at this time of day."
To which my response is, inevitably, "Well why don't you drive then." And so we continue. Or if we're heading for the Blackwall tunnel, we don't.
It's not so much the driving, but the rest of the car-owning experience that dads either enjoy – or not. I'm not one of those who escapes to lovingly wash the damn thing on a Sunday morning. I do check the tyre pressures and get it serviced.
I also struggle with installing various child car seats – these seem to have been deliberately made to catch me out, and many is the time I've stood in the freezing cold with various bits of a Toy Story booster seat system on the pavement while I figure out how it works.
And I reckon it's often easier to load a reluctant camel into our estate car than get three kids into their allocated seats, and belted up (actually, getting them to shut up too would be a bonus).
The fun doesn't stop there, with windows going up and down, requests for ZZ Top and toys dropped on the floor every minute that have to be retrieved.
But like all parents who drive with small children on a longish trip, there's a great moment when you turn round and see they have fallen asleep and all is quiet.
Ands then you realise you've just arrived at your destination and need to wake them up.
Do you agree with Marc that in most families the dads do the driving?
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