How I learned to drive

The story of my driving education starts with Mr Bo. 

Mr. Bo was an older kindly gentlemen of southern extraction with a communication style heavy on the sarcasm who walked with a limp due to an unknown previous injury. The tongue-in-cheek rumor around the school was that he hurt himself during the Civil War.

He never lost control or got angry which is fortunate because I was a terrible driver. He did have a habit of taking off his cap and covering his face, uttering the words, “I’m so embarrassed!” in jest whenever someone made a mistake and when I made a big mistake he would have me pull over and he’d get out of the car and walk it off while smoking his cigarette muttering to himself.

The usual driving instruction time after the in-class portion was 2 weeks. I was not a fast learner and it took me 6 and some extra time just to be “passable”.

What’s the most irresponsible thing you’ve ever seen anyone do.

Tom was halfway home from his job flipping burgers at McDonalds and cheerfully decided to take a novel route back to his house instead of the main streets.

Down Elm Ave., Left on Michigan Dr. on to Greenwood Blvd. and out Arbor Rd. to a jaunt on Cole and finally Hollywood Dr and home. It was the scenic route and he would pass his best-friend’s house along the way.

Elm Ave went by quickly and without incident and he was halfway down Michigan when he met opposing traffic. Now Michigan Dr was a sleepy close packed residential road with cars parked along one side, just wide enough for three cars, barely. And as the the opposing car approached he saw that he might have just enough space to squeeze in-between the parked car on the right and the passing car on the left. Except that he didn’t. Experience tells a driver in a similar situation to duck behind the parked car and wait for the other vehicle to pass. Tom was inexperienced. A fact made clear by the screech and crumple noises of his car’s right side as it mated with the parked car. 

Tom had no idea. What should he do? His parents had gone off on vacation and left him the family car, perhaps, maybe, you know it didn’t seem that bad. Just continue on his way home as if nothing mattered.

Get home. Park the car. Run inside, make himself some frozen chicken. He made it out of that one alive. 

Until the wall opposite the front window lit up blue-red, blue-red and there was a knock on the door. Oh shit! Maybe if he pretended he wasn’t home, you know despite the fact there was a crumpled car in the driveway.

Knock knock again. “We know you’re in there!” 

Tom crouched out the floor and wished they would go away. 

Eventually they did, but shortly after he received a call on the house phone from Dad. 

“Tom what did you do?”