" I'll Drive"

MY SIDE OF THE SENIOR STREET

                                                                  “ I’LL DRIVE”
                                       (That 'mother/daughter thing')


　

I pulled up in front of my daughter Debbie’s house expecting her to be

waiting outside; she was, after all, a stickler for ‘promptness’. Once, when I

first moved to Long Island I got to her house 20 minutes late and although

my sin/crime has been forgiven, (I hope) it is not forgotten. With every

invitation I receive, “Don’t be late!” is always added.

“It only happened once… years ago!” I’d protest. “ How can I get my

reputation back?”

But today, she was late. I checked my cell phone for the time, it was

really only 9 minutes past the agreed on time. Should I say something to

her, a sarcastic comment …‘So, who’s late now..?’ I was tempted, but I

knew I wouldn’t. With a house, husband, and children to take care of and

a job, she needed a break, a pleasant afternoon out.

She came out of the house and came to the driver’s side of my car. “I’ll

drive,” she said.

Some people enjoy driving, I’m not one of them… but right now I was

thinking about her.

“That’s alright Honey, I’ll drive, you just relax.”

“No, really Ma, I want to drive.”

“Uh, uh, I won’t hear of it, today is your day off. So, what do you think,

Macy’s?”

We have a new baby due in the family soon and I was shopping for gifts of

layette and nursery items. But I was no longer familiar with baby gear so I

asked Debbie to come with me.

I drove along Sunrise Highway and approached the ramp to the main road.

I could see that it was clear but I couldn’t enter because the white Corolla

in front of me wasn’t moving.

“Go” I muttered, “Go!”

When she/he finally went onto the main road I drove onto the lane next to it,

and peered into the car; who was driving and why were they so slow?? I

stared at the driver, she stared back at me.

And then my attention was taken by the maroon SUV in front of me. There

was a big gap of empty road in front of it.

Why? Why? I thought.

Debbie was glaring at me, “ Why what?” she asked.

I didn’t realize that I had spoken aloud. That question has been asked since

time began; Why is the sky blue? Why was I born? Why are there wars?

“Why is that SUV driving so slowly!” I answered. “There’s no one in front

of it!”

I had to get out of that lane! I sped up and moved into the other lane to pass

the SUV, ignoring Debbie's exaggerated pressing of her foot onto an

imaginary brake.

As I passed I stared at the driver of the SUV. He also stared back at me.

“You know, Ma, there’s a word for what you’re doing. It’s called ‘Road

Rage’.”

“I don’t have ‘road rage‘, I’m just …interested…y'know, in human

behavior…”

“You mean like social research?” she said.

“That’s it, thanks!”

We pulled into the Macy’s lot and started looked for a parking spot.

“Over there, someone’s getting out” said Debbie.

“Good!” I pulled closer and waited. But the car didn’t move. I waited

another minute and a half and then tapped the horn, the driver turned and

waved me away.

“Oh no you don’t!” I unhooked my seat belt and reached for the door

handle.

Debbie held my arm, “Where are you going?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Forget about him.” She pointed, “There’s another open spot.”

“Oh no! I’m going to talk to him…and by the way, now it’s ‘road rage’ ”.

The driver of the car, a young man about the same age as my son Steve, was

on his cell phone. He smiled at me, “I’m talking to my Mom,” he said. “I

call her every day.”

“That’s sweet,"I purred, and waltzed back to my car.

“He’s talking to his mother,” I told  Debbie, “ he calls her every day.”

She didn’t hear me, she was all scrunched up and talking on her cell

phone; “It’s horrible” she was saying…“horrible.”

“Who are you talking to? What’s ‘horrible’?

There was no answer, just a groan.

I parked in another spot and we went into the store. With Debbie's

 help I found some nice things in the layette department; onesies,

 a lovely blanket for the bassinet, and an infant car seat. The order

 would be shipped right away.

“Now we’ll have a good lunch” I said, backing out of my parking spot and

following the arrow that pointed to the exit out of the mall. Two lanes were

feeding into one, A car horn blasted behind me.

“Ma, you cut in front of her!”

“I had the Right of Way!” I said. I opened the window and called “Right

Of Way!”

“Get a license!” answered the angry driver behind me.

“People are so rude... notice that?” I said to Debbie,

“More social research?” she said dryly.

At the diner we were seated by a sunny window. “Okay” I

 said brightly, “What would you like?”

She shook her head, “ I’m not really hungry” she said, listlessly.

“Are you alright?” She looked so stressed… I had thought that an

afternoon out like this would be good for her.

“Honey,” I said, “I hate to ask… my knee is acting up. Do you feel well

enough to drive on the way home?”

She broke into a smile, “Sure, no prob.” she said, and picked up

the menu, “They have the best Greek salad here!”

                                                         THE END