Turn About Is Fair Play

…continued from previous post

Dear Boo and Bubble,

When it came my turn to learn to drive, your great uncle Bryant insisted that he go along.  Granddaddy Schaefer thought it was only fair what with how I had rolled around in the back seat of Mamaw Mary’s Beetle laughing so hard.

Like Bryant, we started out at the Stone Manufacturing parking lot…..and like Bryant, I bucked up and down the tarmac until we all were in danger of getting a permanent case of the hiccups.  Finally I got the hang of it and was able to smoothly navigate the gears of the Beetle to keep the car going then bring it to a stop without the engine cutting off.  For his part, Bryant was very subdued in the back seat.  He hardly cracked a smile, much less exude the type of uncontrollable laughter that plagued him during his lesson.

I felt very confident and pleased with myself.

“That was very good, Bethie,” Granddaddy said to me. 

“Thanks,” I responded.  “It was actually pretty easy once I figured it out.  So…..do you want me to drive home?”

“Not just yet.”

This sort of confused me.  What was left to be learned?

“I want you to drive up State Park Road to Paris Mountain,” Granddaddy instructed.  “Once we get there, I’ll tell you what to do.”

I cranked up the Beetle and pulled out of the parking lot onto State Park Road, carefully gliding the stick shift through the gears until we gained about 45 miles per hour in third.  Bryant sat quietly looking out the rear window.  I turned left onto Paris Mountain Road and we chugged up the incline for about a mile.

“Turn to the right up here,” Granddaddy directed.

I did as I was told.

“Take a left at this dead end and then another left at the first road.”

These instructions were a little confusing because all that we would do is turn off of Paris Mountain Road only to return to it about a quarter-mile up.  But, I figured Granddaddy knew what he was doing.  I looked at Bryant in the rear-view mirror.  A hint of a knowing smile began to cross his lips.

I made the final turn to the left and faced about a 45-degree upward slope that ended at a STOP sign at the top.

“Okay,” Granddaddy began.  “Pull up to that stop sign and when you see that it’s clear, turn back right onto Paris Mountain Road.”

I drove the Beetle up to the STOP sign, put my right foot on the brake and pressed the clutch with my left, shifting the gear back to first.  I looked right and then left.

“It’s clear,” Granddaddy confirmed.  “Go.”

I transferred my right foot to the gas pedal and slowly released the clutch…..at which point the Beetle began to roll back down the hill…..all the way down to the bottom. 

Bryant could no longer contain his stoic fakery.  He burst into laughter.  I blushed so hard it’s a wonder I’m not still red from it.

“Allright,” Granddaddy said.  “Go back up to the sign and try it again.”

I detected some amusement from him as well.

I thrust the car up to the intersection and stopped.  Once again, I tried to get the gas to catch up with the gear but to no avail and we rolled back down.  The perspiration under my armpits became quite prominent.  Bryant basically convulsed in the back seat.

After the fifth attempt, Granddaddy relented. 

“Let me show you a little trick on how to do this until you get the balance between the clutch and the gas just right.” 

He pulled up the emergency brake which held the Beetle in place while I pressed on the gas and released the clutch.

“Do you feel it catching,” he asked. 

I nodded “yes.”

“Now, hold that position and release the brake.”

Miraculously, the car didn’t careen back down the hill.  I successfully pulled out onto Paris Mountain Road.  Bryant stopped laughing…..not so much because we were moving again, but more because he just couldn’t laugh anymore.

When I look back, it becomes quite obvious that the two of them cooked this whole scenario up – not to help me learn how to start a stick shift on a hill, but as payback for my behavior in the Stone Manufacturing parking lot.

Yes, boys, turn about is fair play.  Or, in this case, payback was hell!