There are two men in our drive preparing to patch up our cars minor dents and scrapes.
Not one for missing an opportunity to present her case the men were ideally situated for a complete run down on how it all happened.
I can see her lips moving and I know exactly what she is saying because I have heard the story. A few times.
The two trucks parked in the parking bay on either side shouldn’t have been there she explains.
My question would be, “why were you parked between two trucks.”
I smile as I watch the two men work on our family car to get it looking presentable again.
I continue to smile as my mind wanders back to when my wife got her driver’s license. She was a late bloomer, only about 5 years ago was she jumping with joy when she showed me her new license to confirm that she is now an independent and free woman.
When she first got her learners permit my intention was to drive with her as the licensed driver as much as possible but I insisted that she get professional lessons from an instructor.
Her first instructor as far as I know has changed professions and is mowing lawns for a living after being released from a health care institution.
The second instructor has turned off his phones and not answering emails.
I quit and handed in my resignation after just one riding experience with my dear wife using the excuse that “life is just too short.”
The day of her driving test came as she assured me she was ready. This practical test usually takes about 30 minutes. On this occasion she was back in the parking bay in less that five minutes. The instructor last seen fleeing from the car toward the mountains.
After 3 more tries she was given a passing grade. Apparently the instructor told her that against his better judgement he is passing her with the blessings of all instructors at the Motor Vehicle Transport if she promises never to step on the premises again.
I am grinning from ear to ear now.
The dent removers were hard at work and my wife continued to make her case. I was starting to chuckle now as more memories were creeping into my mind of my wifes short driving history.
She told me one time that she was outraged when stopped by the police for not having her seat belt buckled. She could not believe that the cop would have the audacity to give her a ticket after she explained that the reason she didn’t have her seat belt buckled was because she wasn’t going that far. That was $300 well spent.
She is working on a personal picture album of her and her many different poses from speed cameras placed around the city to help motorists to drive under the speed limit.
Her only query? “Why are the photos they send so expensive?”
I can remember her being stopped by police because they thought she was under age as her head is just barely seen over the top of the steering wheel. They had a good laugh although they still checked her license to make sure she was of legal age.
On my second cup of coffee now and back to the show as the boys are starting to work at fever pitch to patch up old faithful while my dear wife is still in first gear with her captive audience.
My thoughts again drifted to my insistence that when we go out together that I drive.
I reluctantly allowed her to drive when I have had a few drinks over dinner or out with friends. I had hoped the effect of the alcohol would dull my senses.
I am now alcohol free.
The screeching of tires woke me out of my dreamy state as I saw the dent removers racing toward the highway as my wife waved goodbye.
I made my way out to inspect the job they did on our ever faithful family member wondering how much more punishment it could take.
“As good as new” she said smiling at me with those big blue eyes.
“Yes” I said, “As good a new”, kissing her on the top of her head as we made our way back into the house.
Disclaimer: I am putting myself on record as saying that this is not an indictment against women drivers. I know many who are good behind the wheel. I believe my wife to be an exception.