Jay and I had some wonky trips together when he learned to drive but our most dangerous had nothing to do with his skill level. We were driving near Rochester and I was at the wheel. It was dusk and we were on Route 390, a road undergoing some renovations with only two of its four lanes open. The workers were gone for the day and we were flowing with fast moving cars and trucks. The truck in front of us carried a lawn tractor on its flatbed until, suddenly, the tractor was flying at us.
There was plenty of room between our car and the truck for driving but a bouncing lawn tractor takes up a lot of space and I hadn’t planned for that. I used both feet on the brake hoping that the drivers behind me would notice what was happening. Jay squeezed the armrest and had both of his feet on an imaginary brake on the passenger side.
Luckily for many, the tractor hit on a rear wheel and flew to the right. Had it stayed in the lane to bounce straight back, it might have come down on our windshield. Flying to the left would have put it on someone else. I don’t think anyone would survive a flying lawn tractor.
The lanes to the right were under reconstruction but, since it was late, there were no cars or people. The truck driver slowed and stopped as we watched the lawn tractor bounce and spin while spewing parts and pieces in all directions. Lawn tractors do not bounce neatly. The poor truck driver probably got into a lot of trouble over that.
The episode was still clear in my memory when, about a year later, I drove past a pile of smashed cinder blocks at the corner of Route 19 and 417 in Wellsville. I hoped that the blocks hadn’t hurt anyone. I mentioned this to Jay when I got home and guess what? Rick and Jay had been in the truck behind those flying cinder blocks.
A bit later, when I was standing to cross Rt 417 in Andover I saw a truck full of bouncing furniture zipping down the lane. I was worried enough to keep my eyes tight on the truck and the rest of me ready to spring in a safe direction.
As the truck came nearer, I saw a station wagon behind it and then a sofa flew. The station wagon driver, wide eyed and tense was first-grade-teacher Lisa Lang. Holy Cow! The sofa landed on all four feet, bounced straight up and seemed suspended as Lisa drove right under it. Gravity caught hold and pulled it down and it landed on all four feet again but this time they collapsed like an exhausted dog plopping on a porch floor.
I sure watch who I follow these days.
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Driving with Jay - Story Jar
Driving with Jay
Wellsville, 1998: An important element in teaching Jay to drive was teaching me not to scream. There were moments when fear and anxiety welled up inside and beat their little fists against my throat until I yelped or yelled or squeaked with apprehension – at various volumes. Jay complained that my screams made him nervous and that I really had to get a grip. Gee.
The thing was that I wanted the car to slow down before Jay started slowing down. Occasionally, pedestrians (including Larry, the crossing guard one day) did not get the right of way. One morning, Em’s Geo’s tail pipe/muffler made rapid contact with the front porch bending it up under the car as if it were merely aluminum foil.
We collected bits and splinters of the porch spindles and railing - Rick’s recent summer project - and put the damaged car into the garage then I insisted that Jay drive my car to school.
The problem for all of these incidents was that Jay had a tough time remembering which foot ruled the brake and which the gas. Trying to be logical about this, sometimes he would avoid both pedals while he thought about it. Unfortunately, time couldn’t stop while he mentally chewed his choices.
Jay didn’t explain this until after a white-knuckled whoosh down Madison Hill. The car picked up speed coasting downhill and, noticing other cars stopped at the traffic light, I suggested slowing down. Jay intently looked forward and the car intently sped. I gently called his name, admirably controlling myself but he remained frozen.
I considered three options (screaming, grabbing his arm and being patient) –okay four options (invading his space to smack the brakes) as the nanoseconds whipped with wind around the car. Then Jay touched the brake, sighed and really thumped it. After we stopped Jay said that he appreciated my squeezing the begeebers out of the armrest instead of screaming while he was thinking about the pedals.
Of course he knew we were speeding downward but figured that getting the gas would make things worse so he wanted to be sure before he chose. After that day he remembered where the brake was.
He had less trouble with the manual transmission in the truck though that wasn’t always smooth. One time Rick picked Jay up at the school. Jay revved the engine, popped the clutch practically doing a wheelie and nearly mated with Elsie Swartz’s much-loved, red Thunderbird. Rick claims to have remained calm and advised Jay to back up and give himself a bit more room.
Jay had a lot of experience with the truck when he was tiny. He’d sit on Rick’s lap and “steer” the truck when taking garbage to the dump. Later, he and Emilie “drove” on back roads when I wasn’t around. Part of the deal was, “Don’t tell Mom.”
Of course we all have stories about learning to drive. My favorite is that while demonstrating figure 8s during my motorcycle road test, some demon force goosed the throttle and sent me bouncing over the curb, through a shrub and up two steps before I stopped. I thought a bit of levity was in order but my brother couldn’t have been more embarrassed when I asked the examiner if I could have one more try.
Wellsville, 1998: An important element in teaching Jay to drive was teaching me not to scream. There were moments when fear and anxiety welled up inside and beat their little fists against my throat until I yelped or yelled or squeaked with apprehension – at various volumes. Jay complained that my screams made him nervous and that I really had to get a grip. Gee.
The thing was that I wanted the car to slow down before Jay started slowing down. Occasionally, pedestrians (including Larry, the crossing guard one day) did not get the right of way. One morning, Em’s Geo’s tail pipe/muffler made rapid contact with the front porch bending it up under the car as if it were merely aluminum foil.
We collected bits and splinters of the porch spindles and railing - Rick’s recent summer project - and put the damaged car into the garage then I insisted that Jay drive my car to school.
The problem for all of these incidents was that Jay had a tough time remembering which foot ruled the brake and which the gas. Trying to be logical about this, sometimes he would avoid both pedals while he thought about it. Unfortunately, time couldn’t stop while he mentally chewed his choices.
Jay didn’t explain this until after a white-knuckled whoosh down Madison Hill. The car picked up speed coasting downhill and, noticing other cars stopped at the traffic light, I suggested slowing down. Jay intently looked forward and the car intently sped. I gently called his name, admirably controlling myself but he remained frozen.
I considered three options (screaming, grabbing his arm and being patient) –okay four options (invading his space to smack the brakes) as the nanoseconds whipped with wind around the car. Then Jay touched the brake, sighed and really thumped it. After we stopped Jay said that he appreciated my squeezing the begeebers out of the armrest instead of screaming while he was thinking about the pedals.
Of course he knew we were speeding downward but figured that getting the gas would make things worse so he wanted to be sure before he chose. After that day he remembered where the brake was.
He had less trouble with the manual transmission in the truck though that wasn’t always smooth. One time Rick picked Jay up at the school. Jay revved the engine, popped the clutch practically doing a wheelie and nearly mated with Elsie Swartz’s much-loved, red Thunderbird. Rick claims to have remained calm and advised Jay to back up and give himself a bit more room.
Jay had a lot of experience with the truck when he was tiny. He’d sit on Rick’s lap and “steer” the truck when taking garbage to the dump. Later, he and Emilie “drove” on back roads when I wasn’t around. Part of the deal was, “Don’t tell Mom.”
Of course we all have stories about learning to drive. My favorite is that while demonstrating figure 8s during my motorcycle road test, some demon force goosed the throttle and sent me bouncing over the curb, through a shrub and up two steps before I stopped. I thought a bit of levity was in order but my brother couldn’t have been more embarrassed when I asked the examiner if I could have one more try.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
