Driving Lesson

I told my fellow cheerleader, Shanan, that I’d teach her how to drive stick. I’d just recently learned how myself, so it was only natural. I’ve since learned there are much easier, much smoother manual transmissions than a 1972 VW bug. At the time, I had no idea.

In hindsight, teaching Shanan in the Alpha Beta parking lot at 5:00 on a Tuesday with Laurie and Peggy along for the ride maybe wasn’t the best plan. Most people, I know now, go to uninhabited housing developments or abandoned parking garages first. But we were nothing if not impulsive, and we’d just made a stop for some Diet Cokes and Oreos, and Shanan said “I want to learn to drive stick” so I said “OK” and proceeded to teach her.

After a 30-second preview (“Left foot on the clutch, right foot on the gas, sort of ease off one while gently pressing the other as you slide into the next gear, see, like this”), I put the bug in neutral, opted not to set the parking brake, and jumped out as Shanan climbed into the driver’s seat. I guess she was a bit over eager. Just as I stepped in front of my car, Shanan popped it into gear and took off.

I think the bug jumped a little off the ground before it hit me, knocking me flat on my ass as it drove right over my legs - badump, badump. I remember looking up as it drove away, Laurie’s and Peggy’s faces and hands pressed against the rear window with the comical, open-mounted gapes of cartoon characters on their faces. I laughed out loud. Somebody’s gray-headed grandma came sprinting across the lot pushing her grocery basket. “Those horrible girls just ran you over!” she cried out, ready for teenage blood.

But the beauty of learning to drive stick in a VW is that it’s so lightweight, if you run someone over, it might not even leave a bruise.