Driving

Sheri's daughter, Hannah, turned 16 last week.  Here in NJ you have to be 16 to get a permit, whereas in other parts of the country you can be 15.  At least I think that's how it still is.  Anyways, it was just like yesterday that I got behind the wheel of a car for the first time.  It was this gigantic boat of a car, like an old Crown Royal that had a 10 foot turning radius. 

Driving came pretty easily to me, from what I remember.  I had a cool instructor who basically let me do whatever I wanted which even included practicing driving with my knee as I saw my older sisters do.  Lemme tell ya, he was a brave man. 

Hannah didn't have a good first experience.  She was at a weird 5-way intersection and didn't move as fast as the man behind her wanted her to and he started shouting and screaming at her-apparently never minding the fact that the car she was in had "Student Driver" plastered all over it.  Her instructor, who is also a friend of the family, got out of the car and started shouting at the driver in Russian.  The man then got out of his car and started screaming back, leaving poor, frightened Hannah to cry in the car.  She didn't want to finish her six hours but she did and now has a permit.

On Sunday we had to drive to BFE to pick Hannah up from her father's house.  Naturally, Hannah wanted to drive the 50 minutes back to my apartment.  I am a control freak when it comes to cars and driving.  If I don't know the person I will not drive with them-I am a horrible backseat driver and will only end up clenching the "Oh-Shit" handle until my knuckles turn white.  I did not want Hannah, who has only been driving a week, to drive Sheri's car with me in it.  So then Sheri said Hannah could drive back to their house from my apartment which is all major highways.

Yes, let's throw a new driver into the thick of things.  I protested, picturing Hannah panicking about something and losing control of the car and it ending up as twisted metal and killing two people that I love.  I knew that Hannah wanted to drive and I thought it would be better to let her drive on the windy country roads she at least had driven a few times already.  So I relented and sat in the backseat.

I also am susceptible to car sickness.  I have to be able to have a clear shot out of the windshield if I'm not driving to be fine so if I sit in the back I have to sit smack-dab in the middle.  Sheri's BMW is a 2001 and the backseat did not have a shoulder harness in the middle, just the buckle that goes across your lap.  I felt the panic rising in my throat, thinking if we got into an accident I was not going to be safe.  I reached out and grabbed the handles on either side of me and prayed.

God, we went to Church today.  We're good people.  Please let us get home safely

Apparently me being so nervous was funny to both Hannah and Sheri and they were picking on me.  Hannah would say easily "It's fiiinne.  I know what I'm doing."

Yes, you've been driving a whole week.  I forgot that you must know everything.

I took a deep breath and wiped my sweaty palms on my Sheri and tried to tell myself that we will be fine.  We started off painstakingly slow, backing out of her father's driveway.  At the end of the road she came to a full stop, used her directional although no one was behind us, looked both ways, and proceeded.  A little ways up the road she had to make a sleft (slight left) and turned the car so sharply that I was sliding across the backseat.  "Hannah!  That was too sharp!"  I shouted

Hannah laughed "You know that I'm just messing with you, right?"

"Ha.ha.ha.  Just drive normally please unless you want to pull over now so your mother can drive!"

She did well, better than I expected.  After about 15 minutes I began to relax a bit and let go of the handles.  Sometimes she would take a turn too sharply and I'd go sliding again and my heart would jump into my throat.  Or she'd drift over the yellow lines or too close to the edge of the road and we'd all let out a little "Whhhoooaaaaa!"

She's so much like her mother though.  There was a car going 20 in a 40 and Hannah said "Is there a reason this car is not doing the speed limit?"  We all laughed that she's already aggravated by slow drivers.

The scariest by far was her merging onto a highway.  Thankfully since it was a Sunday the traffic was minimal but we kept trying to tell her to speed up and merge.  I was nervous when I glanced at the spedometer and she was only going 40 in the acceleration lane.  I was prodding her "You need to speed up!"  Only a minute later I glanced again and she was going 75.  "You need to slow down!!"

"Well you guys are talking to me and distracting me!"

"You still have to check your speed when you're driving!"

I could have nearly kissed the ground when she finally pulled into my complex.  I told her "You drove better than I expected, but don't expect that this will be a regular occurrence."

I'm just really happy to be alive.