Friday’s Feast is still a link on my sidebar, but it’s been defunct for a long while now. I had this prompt kept for a rainy day. And…it is humid here today.
Using 20 or less words, describe your first driving experience.
I was fifteen and had my shiny new driving permit. On a late spring Saturday morning, I watched my Dad pull out my car out of the garage – a large, brown Cutlass Caprice Classic with a luggage rack that I later termed my ghetto spoiler. I hopped excitedly from one foot to the other, my Mom standing next to me. Leaving the car running, my Dad got out and gave me the trademark Serious Dad Face.
I got behind the driver’s wheel, my Dad in the passenger bench seat, my Mom sitting behind me in the backseat. I tapped the wheel at ten and two and I was lectured quickly about the power of the vehicle I was given the ability to control. I eyed the radio. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled.
I shifted the brake, pulling the handle behind the wheel forward and slipping it from Park to Drive. I pulled slowly, ever…so…slowly…out of the driveway. Turning to look behind me, I then looked up and down our achingly boring street. We inched out.
“CAAAAAAAAAR!” my Mom howled into my ear. I slammed onto the brake, slapped against my seat belt, watched my Dad brace himself against the dash and spin around eying my Mom who had flown forward and was clutching the brown couch of the seat with death white hands. “Where!” I yelped, spinning in my seat. My Dad gave my Mom a dirty look as if he already knew what was coming.
She leaned back, readjusted herself, and proclaimed, “Well, there could have been one.”