by Michele Connell

Created on: March 14, 2009

Ahh...the glorious nostalgia! Learning to drive was like stepping from reality into another crazy dimension. You know...the one where someone says, "Okay, hop behind the wheel and giver 'er a spin." Okay, maybe that's just the way it happened for me. None-the-less, I shakily traded places with my older boyfriend and stared at the five-speed, straight shift in horror.

"I can't drive this thing!" I stated emphatically, but for some unknown reason he had more faith in my abilities than I did. He shook his head, refused to trade back, and without another word I pressed the clutch (I at least knew that much) and started the engine. With slow, deliberate guidance I began to move down the abandoned back road. He showed me how to listen for the sound to know when to push the clutch and change the gears.

With sweaty palms and racing adrenaline I managed to comply, and actually began to feel more confident - enough to at least speed up past forty miles per hour.

"Now, when we reach the next road, I want you to turn right."

Alright, I thought. This will be okay. I can do this. So far so good. I saw the turn coming and took my foot off the gas. My speed - though still minimal - didn't decrease so I took the first initiative that popped into my mind......press the clutch.

Huge mistake! Most people know that when driving a straight shift, if the clutch is engaged, the vehicle doesn't necessarily slow down. I turned anyway causing the back end to skid ever so slightly, and caused my boyfriend to grab the wheel (after he saw that we were headed for the nearby ditch) to keep us from plowing into the tree along the way.

"Why didn't you press the brake?" He exclaimed his anger colored more by sheer fear.

My reply...."I didn't know I was supposed to." I had never driven before, and certainly hadn't felt confident that day, but he'd insisted. I was only doing what he'd asked. Now we were smack in the middle of a small wedge, lucky to be unharmed, and I was humiliated that I'd almost wrecked his nice truck. We spent thirty minutes pushing (well, I was pushing, and he was driving) to dislodge the back wheel. As the truck settled into a level place near the road, he motioned for me to get in - passenger side or the tailgate. It seemed his earlier cockiness had turned to mush, and no amount of budging could have pried him loose - his butt had become like superglue on a finger nail.

It was certainly a memory - my first experience behind the wheel - and one I will never forget. Well, it's not as if I could, even if I wanted to. My boyfriend (now my husband of fourteen years) has reminded me numerous times of our first, disastrous lesson.

Hmmm....I can't help but wonder how he'll react when our girls get behind the wheel......

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