Driving lesson

After some summer cleaning in the office, preparations for the upcoming school year, meetings and a few erands, I dropped P off at home and then took off for my act of volunteerism for the day: to give my 18 year-old translator a driving lesson. Let me just scratch that off of my list of things I'd like to do when I grow up. It was an exercise in sphincter control, tongue biting-to-keep-from-screaming, and faith in the afterlife.

I guess I take it for granted that I started driving at the age of 10, sitting on my dad's lap. Hello overcorrection. As my calm, stewardess-like voice would say, "ooh, better slow down.... watch out... veer right!" I found my inner voice pleading/praying/screaming "please don't hit the girl, the pot hole, the old man pushing 3 x's his weight in scrap metal, the child--oh God the little child-- the pile of rocks, the very big and very unyielding mac truck."

After watching my life and the lives of some innocent bi-standers flash before my eyes, I shakily asked F to show me a field we could practice in. He directed me to a large open multi-purpose field apparently well-known for driving practice as there were 2 other cars circling the perimeter at 2 miles an hour. I aligned some rocks to help teach him to drive straight without overcorrecting... taught him a 3-point turn that we'll have to work on tightening up a bit since it took him the entire football field to get 'er done, and we practiced starting from stop on a hill. I remembered my lesson with a friend in KC who took it upon herself to teach me to drive stick, and promptly decided to recommend her straight away for saint hood. I also remember my terror behind the wheel the first time with a car I couldn't quite figure out... so that kept most of the shriek out of my voice.

Side note, I had to learn how to go from stop to start up a hill in PaP by myself, driving out of necessity for the first time, the shear terror of hitting the space-crampers 1 inch off of each of my bumpers teaching me how to hold the clutch/accelerator in balance. Fear teaches, I tell you.

Truth-be-told and dramatics aside, F did an amazing job. He won the Most-Improved award on day one. He's a smart guy and is excited about learning, so after an hour, he could drive a straight line, turn a tight 3 point turn, and get a car up a hill with only a few spun-out rocks. I am proud of him. He's already better than some of the drivers on the streets of Port-au-Prince.

So anyway, I am home, safe, in one piece, and the Galloper is no more bumped and bruised than it was this morning. ;)

I do believe in miracles. And I raise a toast to all you brave driving school teachers everywhere. You all need a raise.