Driving Miss Crazy

I got my license late in life. My mother never had one and for too long I was following in her footsteps. I listened to the brow beaters when they told me how dangerous the road is and how I'd make a lousy driver. Then my boss, bless her heart, insisted and paid and pushed and forced me to claim my freedom. Now she has me driving everywhere. I don't refuse- partly because I hardly refuse anyone who asks something of me but also because I love being on the road by myself. It is the only time I take for me. Saturday I was on the road from 10-6. I burnt almost $70 in fuel. Today I 'purposely' got lost in Indian Ground trying to 'short cut' to Mount Brevitor.
But driving by myself is also driving myself crazy. I have these long drawn out conversations with me where I over analyze and castigate myself. I second guess decisions, I yell at me for the way I feel. And the more driving I do, the more nuts I become. And the worst part is, even after a long long day on the road- where my back is stiff and my neck is shot and a headache is begging for attention, I still itch to get back in the car.
It seems that with every new nook I find on this pebble in the sea, I find a new cranny in my psyche. People worried I'd get in accidents but I worry I'll become one myself. I'll either drive myself right off the cliffs of insanity or need a tow to Black Rock.