Rites of Passage

It was a Saturday morning and I was determined to get my run in early, way before every dog in the neighborhood was dragged to the park by their owners for a leisurely stroll around the lake. Mind you, I consider the Buddy Attick Lake MY lake because over the years it has become my second home. It’s the perfect running place for me. During the summer months it’s mostly shaded which helps with the onslaught of 90 degree weather. This time of year (spring) can be a little tricky in terms of weather. You never know when you’re going to get rain. I’ve gotten caught a few times in a downpour with little or no energy (or capacity) to run any faster to get all the way around before getting completely drenched. Not only that, it is an all dirt path which quickly turns to mud during a downpour. Once around is approximately one and a quarter miles. Ideally I like to run in temperatures around 45 – 50 degrees – so when I woke up on this particular Saturday, and the weather was pretty nice, I decided to get out there. 

I hopped in the car and was heading down Greenbelt road amidst the somewhat early risers out running errands and just as I approached Good Luck Road, out came a car moving with no urgency to get into the flow of traffic.  I had to hit the brakes pretty hard and I must confess that, in my mind, I was not saying kind words. I looked a little closer to see that the vehicle was one of those driving school vehicles!!!!!  Oh no – a new driver!!! How could this be happening to me? I could tell that the driver was pretty nervous as it seemed that he or she was having trouble guiding the car between the designated lanes.  I decided to not apply any more pressure and just slowed down (almost to a crawl I might add).  I had to chuckle and it took me back to my “learning how to drive” days.

Since I grew up in New York, there really was no urgency to learn how to drive.  I became a master navigating one of the most complex subway systems there is. Frankly, sometimes it takes less time by subway than it takes to drive somewhere on New York – not to mention the problem of parking once you arrive at your destination.  In Philly, we lived in a two fare zone which means I had to take both the subway (called Septa) and a bus  to get home. Even though it took some time to do that, I really didn’t mind. It became somewhat problematic once I started taking singing lessons in New Jersey. I would take the bus, the subway and then the high speed line (NJ Transit) just to get to my lessons once a week. Needless to say, I would get home pretty late most times. Depending on the transit schedules, it could take up to two hours. So after some resistance, I agreed to get my license so I could at least drive to my lesson. My husband brought me the cutest car ever, affectionately named Carmen. She was not only cute but compact, sporty and was a bright line green color!! I’ll spare you the ridiculous details of my learning process, but let me sum it up by saying I learned to drive on a Karmann Ghia stick shift with no power steering!! Not only that, my dear ex-husband was my instructor and insisted that I learn to drive initially at night and in the worse possible conditions. If I didn\’t know any better, I\’d think that he rather enjoyed torturing me. It’s a good thing that this was early on in our marriage (the “honeymoon stage\’\’) or else our marriage would have ended very quickly. He never would give in to my pleas of “you drive, I can’t do this” or the many times I would stop the car in protest declaring “I’m NOT driving!” By the time it came for me to take my driving test to get the actual license, we had acquired an automatic car which was supposed to be easier for me to maneuver. As we approached the testing area my heart began to beat so hard that I was sure you could see it through my shirt.  The instructor got in the car and off we went.  The good news was that in Philadelphia you were taken to a “driving testing area” so you didn’t have to actually drive in traffic. There was only one problem, – my leg was shaking so badly that I could hardly press on the accelerator. I was sweating profusely and the more I tried to calm down, the worse the shaking got. In addition to the shaking, I was now driving an automatic car with power steering (which of course I wasn’t completely comfortable with). I had gotten so used to driving the manual transmission car that I began over compensating; consequently, the car moved a lot quicker and the steering was not very forgiving – the least little bit of effort and the car did exactly what you asked it to do – who would have thought?  I actually think the guy felt bad for me. Clearly I could complete all the maneuvers – coursing the designated cones, 3 point turn, parking. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the instructor holding on to the side handle. I was thinking what’s wrong with him, I’m the one who is being tested here.

I guess when he couldn’t take it anymore, he said: \”Just pull over\”. Once I stopped the car I could have sworn I heard him take a deep, cleansing breath. By this time I started getting feeling back in my legs and the shaking seemed to be slowly subsiding. He wrote down something on his clipboard and then said, “OK, you passed but please have someone in the car with you for a while until you feel more comfortable”.

He got out and I immediately slumped over the steering wheel in total exhaustion.