When last
we left off, Savannah had meritoriously earned
her New York State
The key to the successful acquisition
of knowledge is directly proportional to the consistency of teaching. I initially began teaching Savannah to drive until, upon observing her
father’s rather unconventional driving style, she inquired as to why he was
stopping at the stop sign at the end of our seasonal road. “You stop at all stop signs,” he
replied firmly, watching the play of doubt cross her face. Her fate was sealed as he watched her slide
the truck into neutral approaching another one of those pesky stop signs. “Why aren’t you downshifting,” he
inquired. “Down…what,” she questioned
before taking her father on as her full-time driving instructor, leaving me
unceremoniously in the dust.
I was, however, given the honor of
taking Savannah
to her road test. “Do you think you can
handle this,” Brad asked, “I can take off work if you need me to.” I admit I reacted a tad testily. “It’s not rocket science, for Pete’s sake,” I
snapped, “people do this every day. I’m
pretty sure I can get her to her driver’s test on time.”
I blame the Department of Motor
Vehicles. I called multiple times
to ensure that I’d dotted the T’s and crossed the I’s. I had certificates, testimonials,
recommendations, and immunity records.
Did I mention that I called more than once? So there we are, parked in line near the
Warsaw monument, watching the poor saps ahead of us jerk their vehicles
awkwardly onto the road and weave unsteadily towards the school. The brave man giving the test approached each
parent prior to the test to ask something and suddenly, my heart sank into my
shoes. I bolted from our truck and raced
over to him, interrupting his conversation to ask if it were necessary for me
to have my license. Incredulous,
he assured me that it was customary for New York State
It’s one thing for my kid to fail
her driver’s test herself but, by golly, I would not allow myself to be single-handedly
responsible for screwing up such an important day for my daughter. I burst into tears on the sidewalk while Savannah sank down so far
on the truck seat that her knees brushed the floor. Needless to say, the Department of Motor
Vehicles hires angels. This very nice
man explained that if I could retrieve my license in the next twenty-two
minutes, he would still allow Savannah
to take her test that day. I could hear Savannah ’s moan of despair (or perhaps disgust) coming
from the open window of our Ranger as she quickly calculated the distance from Warsaw to our house and
back. Tears steaming down my face, I leaped into our truck and drove in the
swiftest and most law-abiding fashion possible, obeying each stop sign, taking
note of every single double line, and not using my horn at all. I apologized to Savannah every quarter mile of that trip but
for some reason, she didn’t seem at all surprised by the turn of events. “It’s okay, Mom,” she said, clutching her
seat like a baby monkey as I rounded a corner at a sedately comfortable
speed.
Long story short…she passed the
test! We didn’t know it then but that
event was more than just a driver’s test.
It was, for Savannah ,
yet another lesson in performing under more than the usual stressful conditions. It wasn’t enough that she had to take her
test using a stick shift. She had to
take her test with a stick AND an unstable mother who somehow managed to get
her daughter to the start line with two minutes to spare. It wasn’t until two weeks ago that the real
reward of that day showed itself as Savannah was working, hauling in salmon
nets in Alaska when the boat she was on got stuck sideways in the
shallows. Surveying the mess, the
foreman addressed his small crew. “Who’s
going to grab the tractor to get us out, “he asked. When no one answered, he spoke again. “Can’t any of you drive a stick?” The lone girl on the boat slowly raised her
hand. Turns out that every day is a test
and thank goodness, Savannah
was more than prepared.
as published in Warsaw's Country Courier
No comments:
Post a Comment