The Rest of the Story

TODAY'S MEMORY JOGGER:  "Tell about a frustrating experience you've had with a car."
 
A particular memory popped immediately into my head when I read the memory jogger.  Here it is, from the days wayyy before cell phones:

I have no memory, really, of where I'd been that evening in 1973; all I can remember is being very, very lost in the hills of the San Fernando Valley, where my family lived, and it was dark and I was alone, and very scared.  Obviously, my parents had trusted me to drive myself somewhere that evening and I was on my way home but, being still new to driving, I didn't have a good sense of direction; ok, let's put it out there, I didn't even know (in spite of having been taken along on many, many Boy Scout hikes in my younger years) which direction I was heading in; whether it was south, east, north, or what!

It was pitch black.  Somehow, somewhere on the way home from wherever I had been, I'd taken a wrong turn, and was now completely lost.   I had no idea where I was.

And I was really scared.

I was driving the family station wagon.  I was on a winding, country road, no streetlights, no street signs. I had no clue how to get home from where I was.  It was dark; there were no houses around, no lights, nothing, which only increased my fear.  I didn't know if I should turn around and go back the way I'd come (especially knowing I wouldn't remember the turns I'd taken well enough to reverse them), or if I should just forge ahead and hope for the best knowing at the same time that I would also be taking the risk of just getting myself more and more lost.

There was nothing else to do but pray.  So I prayed. I prayed really hard. I prayed, knowing that I truly needed help, and because I was frantic and beginning to panic. I needed to know where I was;  I needed to know how to get home.

I prayed in the way that I'd been taught, first acknowledging the good things in my life, "God, I thank thee for all my blessings, I have so many blessings, but (I was too scared, and too frantic to be more specific before rushing on to what I needed) please notice that I'm LOST, and I don't know where I am, and I'm soooo scared.  Please help me find the way home!"

I kept praying, talking out loud really, to God.  I kept repeating, "I'm lost, please help me find my way home!"

Although it seemed like hours, I know that it was only a few minutes later, that I suddenly came to a major street.  Lights, cars, houses!  Even with no street sign I recognized the street and, although I don't now remember it's name, if I were on it now, today, I know I'd immediately recognize it just as I did that night.

I totally knew my way home from that spot.

Coincidence that I arrived at a familiar street so shortly after my fervent prayer?  Doubtful, because listen to the rest of the story:

For the next two years, until I left home at 18, I tried to find that intersection again.  I drove that major road, its entire stretch, many many times and found not a SINGLE intersection with a road that led up into the hills, and into the pitch black dark that I'd found myself in that night. And on several occasions, when I drove past a particular spot on that road, I received the clear and distinct knowledge that it was the very spot where I'd emerged from my nightmare.

But there was no intersecting road there, no road at all.


It had only existed for that one night; perhaps only for a few minutes.  Just long enough to get me back on track, out of danger, and home.

Experiences like this are why I believe in God, and in prayer.


FOR NEXT WEEK: "Describe the perfect winter day.  Tell about an activity you would do on that day."

Learning to Drive - Memories of Me Monday

"Tell about how, when and where you learned to drive. Any memorable experiences?"

I took Driver's Ed in high school. In those days, the mid-1970's, it was part of the public school curriculum. We had classroom instruction, learned the basics of behind-the-wheel technique in simulators (which we called "stimulators") then, finally, piled into white sedans in groups of 3 or 4 plus an instructor to practice in the school parking lot and surrounding neighborhood.

We also got to watch really gory movies of car crashes. I guess those were to scare us into behaving once we got our licenses and were out on our own!

My mom and dad both let me practice in the family station wagon, while they sat nervously in the passenger seat. From the start I was a pretty crappy driver. I just didn't get the big picture. I understood the driving laws, from the classroom instruction, but the simulators had done nothing to prepare me for a real car, and my behind-the-wheel time at school was limited to about 15 minutes a couple of times a week for only a few weeks.

The simulators were in a small trailer parked on the school property. We sat in chairs with a steering wheel in front of us and gas and brake pedals at our feet. Projected onto a large screen at the front of the room was a movie of an empty road as seen through the windshield of a moving car. We all pretended we were steering our "cars" along the road, pressing the gas or brake pedals as instructed. I suppose the point of the exercise was just to get the feel of putting our hands and feet on the the wheel and pedals.

I passed the class and a few months before my 16th birthday my mom took me to the DMV to get my learner's permit.

During the driving test, I was so nervous I made a left turn in front of oncoming traffic.

Automatic fail; the test was aborted immediately.

More practice with mom and dad and, as soon as I could I went back at the DMV. I had some additional motivation this time because I had invited a boy to the Sadie Hawkins Dance and I wanted to be able to pick him up.

Nervous again, I was unable to properly execute the 3-point parallel parking maneuver.

Fail!

My dad was incredulous. The next time he took me out driving he noticed that I wasn't looking ahead, but down at the ground in front of the car. He asked me what I was looking at and I told him the line in the middle of the road. I was following it! He told me to keep my eyes on the road ahead. That helped me stay more in the middle of my lane, but I still had trouble negotiating turns and parking. Finally, my dad realized I was having trouble judging distances. A trip to the eye doctor revealed I had very weak vision in my left eye leaving me with virtually no depth perception.

No wonder I'd totally bombed when I took tennis in P.E.! Not to mention the two failed driving tests.

I got glasses and I got my license.


FOR NEXT WEEK! "What tradition at Christmas is your very favorite?"