Sunday, September 13, 2009

van vs. naomi

Betsy and I used to laugh that Rebekah is competent and I am confident. Confident and charge ahead. It usually serves me well. And even when I fail, that indomitable buoyancy always pops right back up, and I hear myself talking just as big as last time. There was one time, though, when it failed me: learning to drive. It took several timid, faint-hearted years before I got my feet…..er, wheels… under me. But that’s the past. The almost forgotten past. Now I zip along with all the natural pluck my license allows. At least in small cars. Because a daunting nervousness still settles in the pit of my stomach when I take on a fifteen passenger van. As a driver. With a full load of students. All the sudden I’m green, raw, young.

This morning a handful of students slept in, as sane, ordinary persons do on Saturday mornings. But the rest of us headed to the annual rummage sale at the community center. We had to be early because class started at nine. So when or alarms sounded, we rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen for coffee and cheerios. Suzanne handed Amanda and I each a set of keys, and we loaded into vans 1 and 2.
We careened gently down the hillside and through the gate.
“This really isn’t so bad, Naomi. You should just stop dreading driving these monsters and just be okay with it.” That’s what I said to myself. Half way down Blue Creek Road, however, Emily said something very different.
“Uh, Naomi, your gas tank is on empty.”
“Huh?” I glanced down. Sure enough. We were in the red. But I figured we had enough to make it into town. No low-gas light was on. Not even the smallest beep.
Ha.

I’ll keep the story short. Suffice to say we didn’t make it to the rummage sale. Eric, bless his soul, came to our rescue. The wise students were still breakfasting when we pulled back home. We settled on an alibi: We’d just say the rummage sale had consisted fully of such uninteresting articles as doilies, tablecloths and large furniture. Bless Suzanne’s soul, too: she assured me the sale wasn’t nearly as interesting as it was last year.
I dropped the students off at the lodge, drove down to the gas tank and filled up van #2 (which I mentally renamed “Van of No Mercy”), and went to brew a pot of coffee.

So I guess the white van won the first round. But there's still eleven weeks to go....

5 comments:

  1. lol!
    You can whip those vans into shape, Nay. You know, they would feel more of a kinship with you if when you drove them you told them stories of Groby and careening around hillsides. Maybe they would be nicer to you then, realizing you really are worthy of driving them. :-D

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  2. Oh I remember first driving those vans. It does get easier! Sorry to hear about you running out of gas - at least (I assume) that you had cell signal when you ran out!

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  3. If it makes you feel better, I ran out of gas in one of the vans once AND I backed into a deep rut into the side of the driveway right below Bob's house a different time (seriously, only 3 tires were touching the ground ... not a good thing). :) Those vans ... {insert me shaking my head in disgust}. :) You show them who is boss, Naomi!!

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  4. well Nay i did come and "look" at your blog spot like you said to. it's too bad that you didn't tell me to read your latest entry because i think that i would have enjoyed reading about how the white van won, but...

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  5. "Not even the smallest beep. Ha." Your story made me laugh Naomi. Your writing has a rambling quality that is difficult to mesh with at first, but once meshed, the scenery is spectacular! You always make me turn inwards a litte as I read... memories are a good thing. Thanks.

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