Learning to Drive, part five

Leta was having her second driving lesson. During the first, she sat in the driver’s seat, learned the names and purposes of the dials and controls, and mimed shifting the gears, manipulating the choke and the clutch. After some experience with this, she successfully started the automobile. That was her lesson. After a quick bottle of beer, her husband Bob took over and drove them on a scenic drive along the river. For Leta, the experience was a surprise. She had never considered the possibility that she would or even could operate an automobile. The experience startled her, but because her daughter Vivian had recently learned and mastered operating the vehicle, she thought she should at least try. However, upon completion of the first lesson, she began to dread the moment when her husband would lead her again to the driver’s seat for a second lesson. They hadn’t planned any specific time for the second lesson, so she had no idea when he would bring up the matter. Sundays were most likely days, since he had more time available. On Wednesday afternoon Sunday seemed a long way off.

Then Bob came home from work a little early and a few minutes later, she was once again behind the steering wheel.

The second lesson started with a review. That was simple enough. She made a couple of errors in remembering parts of the console, but pleased herself by how much she did remember. Before he instructed her to start the engine, Bob had her twice simulate doing so and putting the automobile into gear to drive.

“Make sure you’re in neutral,” he said again. “Now, start the engine.”

Leta had also done this in her previous lesson, so she followed the instruction. The engine sputtered to life.

“Now, put her in gear,” he said with flair.

While her mind didn’t go completely blank, Leta suddenly felt as though she was in the vehicle for the first time. She released the choke, fumbled with the gear, and as her husband whispered helpfully, “slowly, slowly,” she released the clutch with her left foot. The vehicle rebelled with a groan and then went silent.

“What?” she gasped.

“Oops!” Bob said, loudly with just as much surprise.

Leta was shaking.

“It’s okay, darling,” Bob said as he pattered her arm. “When you release the clutch, you need to add gas at the same time. Remember?”

Leta was breathing heavily.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” she gasped.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed, and then breathed with her. “Let’s try this again.

It took her four more times before she actually was able to get the vehicle to move. The second time, she punched the gas pedal before releasing the clutch, while resulted in a loud and impotent roar from the vehicle. The third and fourth times she stalled, and then on the fifth time, the automobile began to inch forward.

“That’s it!” her husband cheered. “Now give it a little more gas.” She did. “Now, get ready to go into second gear.”

Leta nervously slammed on the brake.

“Damn!” she cried.

“It’s all right,” Bob said soothingly, and then whipped his perspiring forehead with his handkerchief once again. “We’re getting there.”

However, Leta never achieved what she wanted. In fits and starts, she managed to drive halfway around the block. Everything distracted her—a child playing in a yard with a ball, a dog running beside her, an oncoming vehicle. With each one, she slammed on the brake and cut the engine. Her arms ached from clutching the steering wheel, and it was difficult to turn it, even when the car was moving. Her legs cramped, and shoulders hurt. By the time, they reached the second corner, she could think of nothing else but getting out of the vehicle and never getting in another one. Not once did she achieve a steady speed. Once she started to move, she would fail at shifting and stall the car. Bob continued to speak softly for the most part, but she noticed how over the course of the thirty minutes that it took them to get from their house to the second corner, he was wiping his forehead with his handkerchief more and more frequently. When she slammed on the brakes one time, he had been leaning toward her and suddenly flew back. After that, he rubbed his neck here and there.

Finally, she stopped. They were at a corner. There were no other vehicles on the road. Leta simply put her foot on the brake and let the engine shut down.

“I’m through,” she said with serious finality. Then she opened the door and started to exit the car. Remarkably, the vehicle was still idling, and unfortunately, they were on a little slope in the road. The automobile continued to glide forward.

“The brake! The brake!” Bob exclaimed.

Leta had the door open and one foot out. She lost her balance and fell against the car door, her outside leg dragging on the ground. She was holding onto the door and the steering wheel for dear life. This made the automobile swerve slightly to the left.

“Help me!” she cried in terror, as the vehicle started to gain momentum.

“Use the parking brake!” Bob ordered.

“I can’t,” she shrieked. “I can’t move. Bob!”

For the rest of her life, Leta would never be able to articulate how Bob managed to stop the automobile without it crashing or either of them being injured, but somehow he did. Still, neither was without blemish from the melee. Leta twisted her ankle, spending two full days with her leg raised and wrapped in ice to manage the swelling. Bob had acquired a long gash on his left arm, which bled for at least two hours, even after they cleaned and dressed it. To the day he died, he bore the scar. The automobile was unscathed.

As for the incident, neither mentioned it nor Leta’s unsuccessful attempt at operating an automobile. The possibility that Leta might learn to drive never came up again.