Can't Get a Break

I thought learning how to drive stick shift would be fun. I was 15 years old. I had just officially gotten my driver’s license. My step dad Dean, who is a tow truck driver, was riding shotgun. It was my step-sister Sarah’s car so she was sitting in the backseat. My hands behind the wheel of a Red 2001 Honda Civic on a warm summer day out in the country.

Things started off fine. I drove down some roads and didn’t run anything over. Then we came to a steep sloping road up with no other way to go. I turned to Dean silently suggesting he take this one, but he just said, “Well go.” I started up what later became known as the “Hill of Death”, slowly chugging up like the little engine that thought she could until she got halfway up and then suddenly lost confidence and the car started rolling backwards and Sarah started screaming and Dean had to pull up the emergency clutch. Eventually I managed to pry my fingers from the wheel and move to the passenger’s seat. Dean drove up the hill. Sarah said I would never be allowed to drive her car again.

I started down the other side of the hill after Dean had managed to get it up there. Things were going smoothly again. I still hadn’t run anything over. Then I came to a stop sign. 2 lane road. I had to cross the road heading to the left to get to the road heading to the right. Once again the little engine that thought she could started her way across the road until about midway when the clutch slipped and the engine turned off and a car was spotted in the distance driving right at us. Slowly the car puttered across in the desired lane. I then managed to gain momentum and drive myself and my sorrowed companions back home.

It’s important to remember when learning how to drive that expectations will always betray you. And it isn’t just learning to drive stick shift that let will you down. The entire process of getting behind the wheel will test you in ways that push you to accept things you never even dreamed you’d have to take into consideration.

It starts out innocent enough: the desire to drive your own car so you and your buddies can go to Jack in the Box at lunch off campus like cool kids on wheels that everyone will then envy. So you start Driver’s Ed and tell yourself, “You’re a smart kid getting A’s and B’s how hard can this class be –especially considering some of the idiots drivers out there.” You go in afterschool with your notebook and your hopes and dreams lost somewhere in your backpack. Then the lights are turned off, the projector is turned on, and the promise of what might have been is thrashed to pieces like a car flipped over by a T-Rex in the movie Jurassic Park.

Slide after slide of notes and flashed on the screen. Your hand starts to cramp as you try to keep up with the 70 mph switching of illegible handwritten driving. A voice says, “We’ll go over this later, just take down the notes”. You assume it’s the teacher who’s lying to you, but you can’t be sure. Tearing your eyes away from the screen will cost you bullet points 78-92.

Once you’ve managed to overcome the challenge of driver’s educating yourself, it is then time to practice the act of actually driving. If first thing you come to learn of course is that learning how to drive is heavily dependent upon whom you choose to have as a copilot. It’s going to be a parent. No one is ever lucky enough to have a wise older sibling to guide –it will be a parent. Do not fool yourself into believing that parent will not freak out during the drive –just accept it. There will be screaming and the slamming of the imaginary brake pedal in the passenger’s seat. You will inevitably turn on your right turn signal 5 minutes before you actually reach the road you mean to turn on. Just remember not to park car on the learning curb.

Then after exactly 60 hours of driving practice have been completed -as noted by the paper your mother has posted on the fridge keeping track of each session –it is finally time to take the test. The night before you try to memorize each word in your driving brochure handbook… but you know the truth must be accepted. You will fail the test at least once. It’s just a part of the rite of passage crossing over from pedestrian to motorist.

Finally after three or twelve more attempts, you will pass the written portion of the test. Then comes the final portion: actually driving a car. Once again you will be tested to accept the inevitable: you will be driving your mother’s car. All those days spent wishing a Maserati would magically appear -instead of that pony that never showed up -have been lived in vain. It is now time to drive your mother’s Durango.

Apparently having a normal car is too much to ask for. Everyone knows nothing will test your desire to drive a car like driving in a vehicle that feels like the bus you considered taking for the rest of your life because getting your license may never happen. By some miracle you then manage to pass the test. You have done it! You are now a licensed driver in the state of California!

It is now time to drive your first car. Lord grant me the Serenity Prayer to know the things I cannot change and accept the fact that I’m going to end up driving a car from the 90s instead of a brand new mustang. Mine was a gold 1996 Jeda. When it got up to 60 mph it made a sound like an airplane taking off that was about to explode. A couple times the gauge stopped working so I had no clue how fast I was going. A couple more times the car would fail to gain speed and I would end up crawling at 40 mph on the highway telepathically signaling the cars behind to drive around me.

Eventually the universe granted me a reprieve and I ended up with a great Blue 2003 Honda Civic. Then last September the universe got bored again and had my car pummeled by a blonde talking to another blonde driving through a red stop light in her Mercedes after a trip to Starbucks. Now I drive a 2004 Kia Optima.