Ready, Set, GO!

I was reminded of this story the other day while I was struggling to score my fifth graders' writing assessments. One girl wrote a very good story-she's a good little writer! Her story reminded me of something that happened to me once, and I shared it yesterday with my class. It's one of my favorite stories.

I was 15 and learning to drive. I don't remember Dad taking me out to drive too frequently; most of my driving happened during Driver's Ed. Dad made me nervous, and he wasn't the most patient of instructors when it came to his daughters and his car.

But on this day, he decided to let me drive to the town of Snohomish. To get there from our house, you crossed 132nd, and drove down a windy, steep hill into the Snohomish Flats. You then drove through the Flats to a stop light. Now, it is a major intersection, but in those days, it was a stop for cars going in my direction, but not a stop for the cars going on the highway. Therefore, I had to stop and watch for the break in traffic to cross the highway and continue on into Snohimish. The traffic on the highway traveled at high speeds, too, so it really was a dangerous spot.

We got to the light and stopped. I was watching traffic to my left and right, waiting for a break. So was Dad. In fact, as he saw a break in the traffic coming up, he said, "Ok. Get ready...get set...GO!"

I stomped on the gas pedal. My tires squealed and spun as I sped out of there. Dad clung to the seat. I'm sure he uttered some curse words as he yelled at me, "What do you think you're doing?"

I just smiled sweetly. "Dad," I said. "When you said ready, set, go, I assumed it was a race, and I wanted to win!"

I don't recall getting into trouble. I don't believe I did. Maybe at 15 I was able to score a point. But I never liked driving anywhere with Dad in the car.