I've always been a late bloomer.

I prefer to do things in my own sweet time instead of when others
think I should do them.  When I turned sixteen, my parents wanted me
to learn to drive.  The trouble was, I didn't feel ready to learn to
manipulate a two-ton hunk of metal around town.  Almost every teenager
lived for the moment when he/she got a driver's license, but not me.
I was the exception to the rule.  Under pressure, I got my learner's
permit and took lessons, but I was not comfortable driving, and did
not go for my driver's test.  I decided to wait until I was seventeen
and then try again.

It's funny how the best-laid plans can get sidetracked when life gets
in the way.  I never got my license when I was seventeen either.
Instead, I ended up living and working in a small town where having a
car was not really a necessity.  I could walk to work in less than
five minutes.  Every convenience was almost at my doorstep, including
grocery delivery, right to my home.  Who needed a car?  It was an
expense I couldn't afford anyway.

A few years later, I married, and moved to the "big city" with my
husband.  He had a Camaro Z28, in candy apple red.  Shortly
afterwards, he traded it in for a more family-oriented car, so we
ended up with a Volkswagen Rabbit, also red.  I was leery about
learning to drive it, because it had a standard transmission.  As I
was not a very coordinated person, driving is stressful enough for me
without playing a foot dance with the pedals and gearshifts.

More years went by, and when we again needed a new car, we chose a
Mercury Marquis, red again.  It had an automatic transmission, so that
was the jump-start I needed to get myself in gear.  I finally
relearned to drive, and at the age of thirty, belatedly but proudly
acquired my driver's license.  Oh, the freedom, the independence!  I
couldn't believe what I had been missing.  I took driving seriously;
never getting traffic violations, never taking risks on the road.

When it was time for a new car again, I told my husband, "Get whatever
you want, just make sure it has four doors and an automatic
transmission, and any other colour but red this time!"  He came home
with a white Corsica, which required a lot more care due to the dirt
factor, but at least it wasn't red.

Next, we decided to become a two-car family, and became the owners of
a dark green Dodge Caravan.  Being seated so high made me feel like I
was driving a bus.   Once I got used to it, driving took a different
perspective.  Maybe it was my imagination, but other drivers seemed to
stay respectfully clear of vans.  I got such a rush every time I put
the pedal to the metal, and the Corsica got a bit neglected.

Being the self-proclaimed queen of the road also gave this previously
timid driver a rush of confidence.  Suddenly I found great
satisfaction in gleefully muttering irreverent things under my breath
about other drivers who dared slow me down.  No one could hear me, and
I was never rude to anyone personally, but being behind the wheel of a
van had unleashed my tongue and made me a road warrior.  I used all
kinds of absurd phrases, such us: "The long skinny one is the gas
pedal!"  Or, "If you were going any slower, you'd be going
backwards!"  Or, my favourite, "If that light gets any greener, it's
going to get sick!"  Suddenly I had "the power!"

One day, the brakes were slammed on my cockiness.  I had driven the
van to do an errand, and when I finished my business, I clicked on the
automatic door opener on my key chain to unlock the door.  It didn't
unlock.  I tried again.  Still nothing.  What was wrong?  Although I
could hear a faint click in the distance, the door just would not
unlock.  Thinking the opener was malfunctioning, I manually inserted
the key in the door, but it would not turn.  Now I was really
puzzled.  Again I tried, but to no avail.  This was driving me out of
my mind!

Annoyed, I rummaged in my purse for my phone to call my husband.  As I
started to dial, I happened to look into the van and with a start, I
saw that the interior looked totally different.  With a dawning sense
of horror, I realized that I had been trying to get into someone
else's vehicle all along.  I surreptitiously looked around to see if
anyone had witnessed my attempted "break in," my face burning as red
as our first three cars.  Walking nonchalantly (in case anyone was
watching) around the impostor van to our van, I successfully unlocked
the door, got in, and for the first time in my life, burned rubber as
I sped away.


Maria Harden
[email protected]
Copyright © 2002 by Maria Harden. All rights reserved.

About the author:  Maria lives and writes in Winnipeg, Manitoba,
Canada.  Although she has always had a writer's soul, it wasn't until
a year ago that she started turning her thoughts into words and her
memories into memoires.  Besides being addicted to writing, Maria
thinks she can play the piano, although her husband tells her not to
quit her day job.

___________________________________________________________
Find out how Roger Dean Kiser, Sr., is using his life to spell
success for orphans coast to coast!  He's started the Sad Orphan
Foundation in hopes that other orphans may experience kindness.  As
Roger said, it was acts of kindness, however small, that saved him. 
For more information, please visit Roger's web site at
http://www.geocities.com/thesadorphanfoundation.  You may send your
check or money order to:

THE SAD ORPHAN FOUNDATION
c/o Author, Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.
100 Northridge Drive
Brunswick, Georgia 31525

Or click on his website and donate using your credit card using
PayPal!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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___________________________________________________________
QUOTE FROM LESSER KNOWN PEOPLE

Upon request by the boys, their daddy imitated the whinny of a horse.

Not to be outdone, I chimed in.

"Daddy," seven-year-old Cody cut in.  "You sound like a horse.  And
Mama, you sound like a donkey."

___________________________________________________________
ON THE HOMEFRONT

A special birthday wish goes to my Grandma, Dorothy Boehm, of Devils
Lake, ND.  She turned 94 this past Sunday!  I love you, Grandma!

Congratulations to one of my sisters, Gayle, who will become a
grandmother for the first time!
_________________________________________________________
LOVE,
JENNIFER I. OLIVER AND FAMILY
[email protected]
"To live that in thy last long sleep, Smiles may be thine wile all
around thee weep." - Nellie L. Wallace, June 24, 1873
_________________________________________________________
This E-mail may be forwarded in its entirety, but first ask the
writer for permission before forwarding. Thank you for doing the
decent thing! Ü
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