Riding Shotgun — No. 02 Things Honey Knows That I Had to Learn the Hard Way

Honey has never taken a defensive driving course. 

She has never read a book about stress management or time efficiency or how to stay calm under pressure. 

She just — knows things. 

Things it took me years to figure out.

Things I'm still working on, if I'm being honest. 

Here's some of what she's taught me.

Rest Is Not Laziness

Honey sleeps without guilt. 

She doesn't lie down and immediately start mentally listing the things she should be doing instead.

She doesn't apologize for needing a break.

She doesn't perform productivity. 

When it's time to rest, she rests.

Completely. Efficiently. Without drama. 

And then when it's time to be alert and present, she is — fully — because she actually rested. 

I learned this concept from a dog.

I'm not embarrassed about that.

Pay Attention to What's Actually In Front of You

Honey does not worry about the truck stop three states from now. 

She is interested in this rest area.

This smell.

This particular patch of grass. 

Whatever is actually in front of her gets her full attention. 

I spend a significant portion of my driving time mentally three states ahead.

In the delivery I haven't made yet. In the problem I haven't encountered yet.

In the mile I haven't driven yet. 

Honey stays in the mile she's in. 

One safe mile at a time.

She figured that out without any help from me.

Let People Know What You Need

Honey has never once suffered in silence. 

She needs out? She tells me.

She wants attention? She tells me.

She's uncomfortable? I find out. 

No hinting. No hoping I'll notice.

Direct communication, every time. 

I, on the other hand, will drive four extra hours telling myself I'm fine.

I will go three states before admitting I'm hungry.

I will miss my own signals because I've gotten so good at overriding them. 

Honey treats her own needs as valid information.

She acts on that information promptly. 

She is, in this area, significantly ahead of me.

Show Up for Your People

When I'm tired, Honey knows. 

She doesn't know the word tired.

She knows what I look and smell and sound like when I'm running low.

And she adjusts. 

She gets quieter.

She moves closer.

She parks herself where I can feel that she's there without me having to do anything about it. 

That is the best kind of showing up.

The kind that doesn't ask anything in return.

The kind that just — covers the distance between where you are and where someone else is. 

I'm still learning that one.

She has it down. 

One Safe Mile  —  Renae Savage

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