The Way This Feels

Chapter 21: Rules

I'm in the drivers seat of a car, flying 55 miles per hour down a country highway. No control. Alone. Palms sweating against the wheel, unable to tear my eyes away from the asphalt I'm careening uncontrollably down, not even to blink. I'm terrified. My lungs, muscles, retinas, even my heart, rock solid. 

Of all the days my mom chose to make me operate heavy machinery... Today I am devoured in a fog, covered in painful bruises, and overall feeling absolutely miserable.

"Foot on the brake." My mother instructs. Oh yeah. The drivers seat of a car. I'm not really flying down the highway at all, but sitting stationary in my driveway looking only at the solid white of our garage door. The car isn't even on. 

It's worth mentioning that I have a learners permit, but next to no hours of practice behind the actual wheel. This would be because I'm terrified of operating a vehicle. Very simple fact. I don't trust my own perception.

I plant my foot on the brake.

"Turn the key and start the engine. Good, now put the car in reverse." I grip the gear shift, jerk it clunkily down and level with the letter "R".

"Now take your foot off the brake."

My foot remains on the brake.

"Will. All you have to do is back out of the driveway."

My foot remains on the brake.

She glances unnecessarily up and down our totally vacant street, "There's no one coming, you can back out."

I glance into the mirrors myself, up and down the street, and my foot remains on the brake.

"Will."

Gingerly, I lift it, and the car seems to careen backward into the street. Terrified, I jerk the wheel at random and hear a bang.

I yell. I've hit someone. I must've.

"Brake." She says much too calmly given the situation, but she doesn't need to, my foot is already pressed firmly into the pedal where it undoubtedly will remain. She puts the car in park for me with a confident push on the gear shift, and turns around looking out the back.

"You've just hit the neighbor's trash can. No big deal."

"What?"

"No biggy. You didn't even knock it over. Put the car in drive."

"No!"

"Put it in drive!"

Knowing I don't have a choice, I take the gear shift and shove it to the letter D, and let go of the brake. The car inches forward slowly.

"Press lightly on the gas."

The car lurches forward.

"Go right." I crank the steering wheel before we can hit our mailbox, the nose of the car revolves dizzyingly. But this part, at least, is easy. Naturally, I ease us into the right lane and we crawl down the street, going exactly 5 miles an hour.

"Speed up a little."

7 miles an hour.

"A little more."

"What's the speed limit?"

"25."

I gape at her, and she laughs.

"This is a stop sign."

I stop.

"Can we be done now?" I ask.