Reach for the pedals

About a week and half ago, I had my first driving experience. Yeah, scary huh? And yes Craig, my feet can reach the pedals!!!

To begin with, let me inform you that my experiences in driving have been very primitive. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. After all, I have heard about a thirteen-year-old who led a car chase and got arrested not only for speeding, driving under-age, but also driving well! I suppose they would have dropped that last charge if he had crashed into five cars or something. That would have been quite excusable, and what do you expect? Anyway, as I was saying, my driving experiences have been very primitive. Of course I've had the delightful past time of when I was about seven sitting in Craig's lap as he let me steer around Fairwood, and then I have done the same thing when I was thirteen with my dad, but on a tractor.

Of course I have driven my cousins' golf cart before, but since a certain dear friend of ours drove it into the ditch a few years ago, I haven't gotten to drive it at all except on the ball field.

Lastly, I have driven a go-cart before. However, I am quite aware that one of those times when I did it I drove rather slowly. Therefore, when Cara and I took a second drive, I fully intended to speed up more and have fun. My good intentions were crushed immediately when I made the poor choice of choosing a go-cart at the back of the line. If I had thought properly, of course I would have realized that there was a reason for this! But naturally I make it a point never to think properly, so I clambered inside only to realize to my great dismay that it was a crawler. I assure you that I had my foot floored on the gas and I could barely keep up with the last of the stragglers. Dear oh dear! My prospects are sorry indeed.

Well, last week Clyde and I were driving back from Keene one evening. Suddenly, after turning at the top of the church hill in Fairwood, he stopped the car and got out. To my bewilderment and astonishment he opened my door and told me to slide over. Oh my. With a little protest, I slid over, behind the wheel. It was dark outside, and I found as I came right to it, driving is a serious thing. Okay, which one is the brake and which one is the gas? Uh, I don't know anything about gears. Painstakingly Clyde directed me step by step on what to do. We crawled forward. When we got to the hill by the Hansen's, I stopped. "I guess I should press the gas pedal now," I said (I admit this now rather sheepishly). I couldn't see where the pedals were when I needed them, so my brother patiently switched on the lights. Up, up, and up we went, then down the other side. I am happy to learn to drive, but I felt like on my first lesson I didn't want to risk running into the ditch, as we came up on the threatening sharp turn into our driveway. Clyde helped me. So that is how I ended my first driving experience, as I rolled timidly into our lower driveway. Safe.

Now I do inform you that I fully intend to like driving. I think I'll try to work on my self confidence next time I'm at the wheel however. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I have to tell you with a mixture of frankness and embarrassment that I am very pathetic. . . . but at least Clyde was bursting with pride that he had been the first one to show me how to drive!