My Mom taught me how to drive. That is, I mostly drove with my Dad, and subsequently spent all my income from two after school jobs with a professional driving instructor trying to unlearn some of the bad driving habits I was convinced I had picked up from Dad. Then Mom showed me the “soft touch.”
Dad and I have very similar temperaments. We both like to think we’re right, we don’t like to be told what to do, we’re both stubborn and most of all, defensive in the extreme. Unfortunately for us, that defensiveness never translated into defensive driving.
As the tension levels of a nervous student driver and her even more nervous father (I gave him plenty of reason) rose to the ceiling the atmosphere in the car would grow more and more cantankerous as two heard-heads collided in a veritable personality crash.
My jerk-and-go style of man-handling the gearshift, speed to a screeching halt at each stop light – almost killing the engine – only to race off as if the devil himself was on my tail as soon as the lights turned caused my driving instructor, as well as my Dad, plenty of headache.
As I struggled to rid myself of the habit I let Dad know in no uncertain terms he was the reason it was taking me so long to get my license – I mean, how could I be any different with such a bad driving example in my life?! I pointed out how he would do all the things my instructor told me NOT to do when driving. This did not exactly help said tension levels, so after a while I suck entirely with the professional instructor – at least he didn’t let his emotions get in the way of my progress.
On a rare session with Mom in the passenger seat, I chuckled at her usual heart-in-her-throat “please don’t drive so fast, honey” and thought she was wimpy. I secretly relished in seeing her face turn white and her obvious discomfort. Come on, it’s not like I was going that much over the speed limit! (In my mind speed limits have always been a minimum guide rather than a maximum limit.)
“You’re right,” my driving instructor told me (see, I AM right!). “It is not that you are going that fast per se, it’s just that you’re going way too fast for your skill level.” OK, whatever. Cars were passing me on my left, and that’s just not right.
As I jerked again on the uncooperative gear shift, Mom placed a light hand on mine. “Don’t be so hard on it, honey,” she said in her characteristically mild manner. “It is very sensitive. A soft, gentle touch will do.”
I relaxed instantly. She was right! The engine responded readily and shifted smooth as butter as I carefully guided the gear stick into position.
From that day on, my driving improved dramatically. I am not a perfect driver for sure, and I still commit the occasional speeding transgression, but I have been infused with enough of Mom’s gentleness that I am able to handle most tense situations with more grace and composure so as to make the ride smoother for my fellow passengers. I have learned how a little gentleness can take you that much farther down the road of life.
Happy Mother's Day!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
8 comments:
"We both like to think we’re right, we don’t like to be told what to do, we’re both stubborn and most of all, defensive in the extreme."
ARE WE SISTERS???
That's a good story, Hanulf, and I think the soft touch works with everything! Michele sent me. Thanks for the earlier visit to my blog.
love the analogy at the end. i learned to drive twice - an automatic at 16 and a stick shift at 25. both times taught by men (dad, then brother) and very intense sessions! hello again from michele.
"I have learned how a little gentleness can take you that much farther down the road of life."
how true! not just with cars but with people as well. Good lesson, great post!
I wrote a poem...
likte dette innlegget veldig! kjøpmannsstanden ordner visst morsdager ofte- for i norge er det i februar;)
catt.
Ha ha...nå måtte jeg le! Jeg lærer å kjøre bil om dagen og kjente meg til tider godt igjen.
Skal ta med meg den videre ja.
Håper du har det bra:)
Stikk gjerne innom bloggen min, den er ganske ny. micha75.blogspot.com
Klem fra Michelle (kona til Leif Ingvald)
That's a great metaphor... the car's gear shift.
My mom always loved the adage, "You get more with honey than you do with vinegar."
Excellent written!
I love it! Mina körlektioner var också traumatiska, och då var ändå inga familjemedlemmar inblandade(bortsett från några få hysteriska tillfälllen med Paul just innan uppkörningen). Ni måste ha varit en ganska...dynamisk duo på vägen, du och din pappa. Tur att det finns mammor!
Post a Comment