Driving Lessons

Driving Lessons   Susan K. Green          1/30/18

I am a New Yorker from birth-

Yes, 97th street.

And there were double decker busses and subways 

And

My Dad’s car. 

And no question of my learning to drive.—

(Altho, odd, my brother learned to drive) 

Not even riding a bike -

The long hill, the traffic and people, dogs,  and all, 

You know.

And besides, his mother wouldn’t let him ride a bike

From the moment she heard that a boy down the street

Was hit by a horse.

Broke his arm.

And the money for the Schwin bike

That Dad’s  mother had just handed him,

Was swiped away.

That was 1911, 

You know.

But finally - I learned to drive-

To take my baby to college.

I was fifty two !  Really ???

But I was Not going to be one of those people 

Who didn’t take her daughter to school

With a car packed full of….. oh, whatever.

My first lesson:

The instructor picked me up at Columbus Circle - 

Took me the whole 45 minutes to get across the street.

But I learned.

I learned to watch for jaywalkers - we are professional at that in New York,

You know - 

Dog walkers, light changes, taxies whizzing, cars beating the light,

Bikes, kids, skate boards, right lane, left lane, busses…

You get the idea.

(Once I hit a Con Ed truck. 

It was on York Avenue, I remember..

He swerved in front of me to make a turn

I just wasn’t fast enough with the brake.  

My instructor was out of the car and screaming in two seconds flat.

“Don’t you see the sign you………..” he screamed! 

And dealt with it.)

But

I didn’t get on a highway until the day before my baby and I 

Left for Rochester.    WAAAYYY up north. 

My instructor thought I should know how to get onto a highway,.

Good idea, you know.

Well, I managed to drive over the Frog’s Neck (don’t ask - I don’t know )  Bridge -

I think that’s what it was -

Then sat at the top of the ramp , staring down at the cars

Whizzing below. 

The honking behind drove me to drive

Down the ramp and onto the Hutch

Where I stayed in one lane  

With the trucks lumbering next to me

And the cars screeching around me

Until my instructor thought it was… “Enough!”

And  I got to an off ramp, turned around over a little stone bridge,

Back down the the highway and up again, driving driving..

Up a ramp, into the city, finally home 

Where I promptly banged into the side of the garage.

Really.

(Now, I have to admit, this was not the first time I drove.

It was in Colorado-

And my boyfriend and I had driven up the mountains 

To explore an old silver mine- 

When he fell

Broke his arm.

Getting him up the broken ladder and out of that shaft 

Was an adventure in itself

But with his arm dangling, as it was,

He could not drive, you know.

And there was no one - ANYWHERE. 

And no cell phones then, you know.

So, he told me what to do.  

Where to put my foot. How to turn the wheel’’

“No! Hold it!  that’s too far!!!” 

How to use the clutch - no, the shift. 

CLUTCH? SHIFT?

Drive down the mountain with those hairpin turns;

Slowly, slowly .. where… at the bottom, 

Just as with my first highway lesson on the Hutch,

I crashed -  but Into the back of a police car.

Really.

The man in the car wanted to see my driver’s license.

Huh?

Well.  he escorted us to the hospital, 

And after the X-rays, the casting, the pain killers,

Someone else drove us home.)

But now my baby and I were going to Rochester.

I clutched the wheel with hands that looked like claws

And my college bound , non-driving child said

“Mom…. you’re fine…. you’ll be great.”

And we left with a rented car I did not know.

Somehow we were on the ramp

Somehow we were on the highway

Somehow we found the exits

Somehow I began to relax, enjoy,

And somehow a manure truck rounded us and

Stayed in front,

Manure flying off the heap on the back of the truck

Onto our windshield, at sixty miles an hour.

And with the truck in front of us, cars in back of us,

Cars on the side of us…

You know.

Dots of manure stuck to the windshield heavier, heavier

Until the windshield wipers were coated and the odor was well…

You know. .

He finally went on his way, turning off to a road

And the sun was shining and the air was better

My sunglasses kept the glare at bay…

But I needed gas.

Now this was something I had never done before.

But I drove up, as if I knew,  

And managed to stop right in front of the gas pump.

A man came out to help.

“Open the  gas valve” he said through the half opened window

As he sniffed the inside of the car,  wondering, no doubt..

Then went to the rear where the gas valve sat -

I guessed.

I pressed a button.

My seat went up.

Pressed another.

The window went down.

Pressed another, Beth’s seat went back

Another - the windshield wipers swept

Pressed another,  the trunk flew open

Beth was in stitches,

Laughing

He was not, for  - 

Standing, as he was, back there,

Waiting for the gas valve to loosen. - 

And the trunk flew -Almost hit him..

When he came to my window

“What the… ?“

“It’s rented “,I said.  “I’ve never ——-“

And pushed a button… the door locked.

He started to laugh 

Beth couldn’t stop

“Open the door!” he said, gasping.

“How?”

But we managed. He pushed the right button.

Showed me how.

He closed the trunk, gave us gas…

Laughing us goodbye..

And, again, we were on our way.

Only five hours to go.

The sun was shining.  

We were singing

We were talking, 

We stayed on the right

And let others pass us by.

I was getting used to this,

Feeling free,

As if I could go on forever,

Wherever I wanted to go - 

Taking my baby to school

Not noticing the clouds darkening the sky.

Until the rain pelted

And I couldn’t see

I knew the trucks had stopped

And the cars  -  in the middle of the highway

“Use the windshield wipers” , Beth cried.

“How?  What do I do”?
“Mo—-ommmm!”

“Im going to pull over… tell me when to stop”.

And she did.

The rain was not rain…

It was sheets of grey

A curtain, a gauze that thundered on the roof.

“Mom, take off the sunglasses,” Beth said.

We stayed until the rain lifted

And then looked out where Beth had said ”Stop!”.

A foot away was a incline, a ravine, a pit.

I leaned my head back against the seat

And shook.  

We made it to Rochester.

To the campus.

To her dorm.

But I could not park the car.

A very nice man saw my backing and forthing 

Three or four feet from the curb,

Beth trying to direct….

And said,

“Would you like me to do that?”

“Oh, yes.  Yes, Yes.”

Somehow driving back to New York was easier.

I clutched the wheel, stayed on the right

And tried not to hear the truckers honking at me

As I neared New Jersey and Traffic.

I drove back and forth to Rochester a few times

But then took the train and rented a car up there

Until Beth learned how to drive in Rochester’s famous 

Ice and the snow

And had a car of her own.

And 

I haven’t driven since.