Robby and Susan sat at a picnic table, the rolling hills of the park behind them. Robby had said he was starved, but he had insisted they bring their meal here to eat even though it took an extra half hour to get here. He sat across from Susan, serenely eating his sandwich.
“Eat slowly,” Susan said.
“I’m hungry.” He was staring off into the distance. “It’s nice here. I like it.”
“I’m nervous and you’re making me rush. Slow down.”
“Take all the time you want,” he said, finishing his last bite and standing up. “I’m going to look around.”
“Don’t forget I still want some time to shop.”
“I’ll teach you to drive in ten minutes,” he said without looking back over his shoulder.
Confident male, Susan thought. How did he expect her to slide behind the wheel of a car and learn to drive in ten minutes? Yah? In ten minutes? Well, at least the park looked nice and open, with plenty of grassy lawns. If things went wrong, they could go bouncing off the blacktop and across the fields until the vehicle stopped. Perhaps that was what Robby planned. But there were also trees—lots of them in the distance. And trees weren’t gut.
Positive thoughts, Susan decided. That’s what I need. Things like happiness and thoughts of easy sailing down the road, the car wheels humming under me. Picture your hands safely guiding the automobile, she told herself. But there are ditches on both sides of the road, aren’t there? Ditches had always looked perfectly harmless before. But now they are lying in wait, hoping I will crash so they can take me into their arms. She shuddered. What does it feel like when a car runs into a ditch? Awful, she thought. There’s no doubt about that. She shook her head. This was all Robby’s doing—him and his inflated ego. Rushing her into driving before she had time to adjust to the thought.
“Come back here!” she hollered at him, shoving the rest of her sandwich into the bag. She couldn’t get another bite down. “We’re going to get this over with—like right now!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, not turning around. “This is beautiful. Come and look at the view.”
“I want to drive now!”
He turned slightly and cupped his hand over his ear. He shook his head.
Susan repeated the words and walked toward him.
“I heard you the first time!” he exclaimed when she walked up. “I just wanted you to see the view.”
“Really!” she said, forgetting to glare at him. She had to admit it was beautiful looking across the fields.
“Look!” He swept his hand outward. “Over there is where the reenactment of the Battle of Monmouth is performed every year. Soldiers dress up in period uniforms and march and shoot at each other. It’s a glorious event.”
Susan looked across the open field in the direction Robby pointed. At least there were no trees there. But they probably don’t allow cars to drive on the open fields.
“See over there? That’s the Craig farmhouse,” Robby said, pointing. “It’s dated from 1745 and fully restored. It’s almost Amish looking, don’t you think?”
It does look sort of Amish, Susan thought. But that isn’t possible. The Amish don’t shoot and march in wars.
“Beyond those woods are the orchards,” Robby continued, “with apple, cherry, peaches, and nectarines. We can stop and see if anything is still in season. That is, after you’ve learned how to drive.”
“Maybe we should start then,” Susan said. “We don’t have all afternoon.”
“Well, maybe we should,” he agreed. “This will be as easy as stitching.”
“Let’s just get it over with, okay?”
“You sound like you’re going to the dentist.” He made a buzzing sound between his teeth.
“Worse!” she said. “But you’ve never been Amish.”
“I guess there are advantages to my world.” He smiled, leading her back to the car.
“What do I do?” she asked, standing by the hood.
“Get in,” he said, opening the driver’s door.
Susan slid in, feeling the cold touch of the steering wheel under her hand. She tried to get comfortable.
“Don’t do anything yet,” he said, walking around to the other side to get in. “Okay, first your seat belt,” he said, snapping his into place.
“Yah, that much I know,” she said.
“The rest is just as easy,” he said.
“That’s because you already know how to drive.”
He ignored the comment. “First thing, the pedal on your left is the brake. That makes the car stop. The one on the right is the gas or the accelerator. Now you name them, and step hard on the pedals while you do.”
“Brake. Gas. Brake. Gas.” Susan moved her foot back and forth.
“Faster!” he said.
“Brake. Gas. Brake. Gas.” She repeated the words, moving her foot as fast as she could.
“Okay. That’s enough. Hit the brakes hard!”
Susan did, pressing until her foot hurt.
“Easy does it. Don’t break the pedal.”
“Now what?” she asked, lifting her foot and catching her breath.
“Press on the brake pedal again and turn the key.”
Susan pressed the pedal down hard and turned the key. The rumble of the engine made her jump. She jerked her hand away from the steering wheel.
“That was good,” he said. “You didn’t hold the key too long. If you do, that will grind the ignition.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
At the moment, grinding the side of the car against a tree seems a more likely occurrence, she thought. What if Thomas could see me now? Susan shuddered at the thought. He wouldn’t like it, and he’d probably pray that I would repent of my sins.
Robby continued. “Now, leave your foot on the brake as you’re preparing to go. Always remember—if you panic or if there’s any trouble, go for the brake. Think brake. ‘Brake. Brake. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.’”
“Okay, now what?” Susan asked.
“Release the emergency brake. That’s this,” he said as he demonstrated. “Then move the gearshift—that’s this one—from ‘P’ for ‘park’ to ‘D’ for ‘drive’.”
“What will happen then?”
“You will drive…once you let off the brakes.”
“Okay.” Susan forced herself to breathe again.
“Slowly now, slowly,” he said, his voice tense.
“I thought you said this was easy.”
“It is easy. Now let out on the brakes, but stomp on it if you panic.”
The car moved forward a few inches and increased speed. I’m driving! Me, the Amish girl Susan Hostetler, is actually driving! The world is moving slowly past the window.
“Turn left here,” Robby hollered. “And there’s someone coming. Brake! Brake!”
“I’m turning,” she said, not slowing down as the car went by.
“Stop sign. Brake. Brake!”
She stomped hard and the tires squealed.
“Sorry.”
“That’s better than running a stop sign,” he said. “Now turn left.”
She went left, and then left again, rounding the circle a few times, stopping at the stop sign each time. Susan felt her breathing become easier.
“It is easy,” she said out loud.
“You’re learning. Remember that,” he said. “Don’t be too confident. Let’s turn right at the stop sign this time.”
Susan turned, following the blacktop. The trees were closer by the road here, but she could do trees now. One simply had to stay on the road.
“There’s a hill coming up,” he said. “Remember the brake.”
The car was going by itself, and she let it. This was fun! The blacktop hummed under the tires. This must be what it felt like to be a real Englisha person sitting behind the wheel of a car.
“Slow down. Brake. Brake.”
“This is fun!” she said.
“There’s a turn coming up,” he warned.
Susan turned the wheel, the tires squealing as they angled around the corner.
“You’re going to kill us,” Robby shouted. “Stop right now! There’s someone coming again.”
“Yah.” She stomped for the brake. They were going a little fast. She gasped as the car shot forward in a burst of speed instead of stopping.
“You’re on the gas,” Robby screamed. “Brake! Now!”
The car in the other lane was getting closer. Where is the brake? She stomped again. Robby’s hands went flying against the dashboard. Her seat belt bit into her neck, and the tires squealed loudly.
“Heaven have mercy on us!” Robby said as the car settled and Susan shifted the gear into park. “This woman is going to kill me for sure.”
Susan put her head on the steering wheel, shaking with laughter. “You were so right! This is fun!”
“You are insane, woman! Get out of the car this instant!”
“No, I won’t. I’m just getting the hang of this.”
“I can’t take this anymore,” he said, looking pale.
She pulled the lever down to “D,” took her foot off the brake, and pressed the gas. The car jerked forward.
“She is going to kill me!” Robby muttered. “And I am my mother’s only son.”
“What do I do next?” she asked, jerking to another stop at an intersection.
“Get out of the car and let me drive.”
“Come on, Robby. This was your idea!”
He sighed. “Okay. You need to use your turn signals. They’re on the left-hand side. Pull down for left and push up for right. Practice it a few times.”
Susan kept her foot on the brake. “Up goes right, down goes left,” she said, pushing and pulling, listening to the sound of the clicks.
“Stop it,” he said. “I can’t bear the sound anymore. Just use them from now on when you turn.”
“You’re a good teacher.” She turned to smile at him. He looked pale.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “Your eyes are measuring me for my coffin.”
Her shoulders shook with laughter, but her hands stayed on the wheel.
He glared at her.
“If Thomas could see me now!” she said. “Wouldn’t that teach him a gut lesson!”
“So now we have the ghosts of old boyfriends haunting us?”
“Don’t worry. He doesn’t bite. He’s a pacifist ghost.”
“Does he know how to drive?” Robby asked.
“Of course he doesn’t. Now, where do I go?”
“Around and around the merry old bush, I guess. How long do I have to endure this?”
“We’ve got all afternoon!” She gave him a sweet smile, accelerating with a jerk.
He lay his head back on the headrest, waving his arm. “Just go.”
“No more instructions then?”
“You can practice what I’ve told you. You need lots of practice. Just stay here in the park area. You’re not ready for city streets.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly.
A minute later, they passed the picnic table. Her sandwich bag was still lying there.
“Remind me to stop next time.” She motioned toward the table and the car weaved.
“Someone else will take it to the trash,” he said. “Just keep me alive. I’m too weak to walk. Just keep going. Blinking. Turning. Stomping.”
On the third pass, Susan pulled over and the car bounced off the curb.
Robby smiled hopefully. “Does this mean you’re surrendering the wheel?”
“The bag,” she said. “It needs to go into the trash can.”
“Oh, the bag.” He got out and headed toward the picnic table. He picked up the bag and walked to the trash. Hesitating after he dropped it in, he came back to the car, opened the door, slid in, and buckled the seat belt.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m ready to go to the mall now.”
“To the mall. Thank God! I’m going to live after all.” He undid his seat belt and opened his door.
“No, no!” she said. “I’m driving. I need the practice.”
“You are not,” he said, not moving. “It’s four lanes on the way to the mall.”
“Well, I guess that would be a bit much,” she agreed. “But up till then.”
“Oh, no!” he moaned, snapping his seat belt back on. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
As they pulled out of the park, Susan turned onto the main road, the back wheel bouncing over the curb.
Robby moaned again as Susan accelerated and clutched the wheel. The cars seemed to be going much faster than they usually were. One driver honked his horn at her.
“They’re going so fast,” she said, looking sideways at Robby. He was looking straight ahead, not moving.
“They’re not moving any faster. It’s you,” he said moments later. “But you can stop anytime.”
“Tell me what to do,” she hollered as another car horn blasted.
“The light ahead,” he whispered. “It’s yellow. Slow down gently, but don’t hit the guy in front of you. Easy on the brake now.”
They came to a stop, and Susan let go of the steering wheel, wiping the sweat off her palms.
“You’d better do this,” she said. “Can we change drivers now?”
He shook his head. “Not here. It’s not safe. But keep going once the light turns green.”
“It is green,” she said, pushing the gas pedal only a touch. The car still jerked forward.
Robby groaned. “Keep going,” he said. “And turn on your right turn signal to get in the slower lane.”
She flinched at the clicking sound and looked back to see the traffic behind her.
“You can get over now,” Robby said. “There’s no one there.”
Susan turned the wheel and the car eased over into the curbside lane.
“Now what?” she asked.
“In there,” he said. “Turn into this car lot.”
She turned and they bounced to a stop. Robby had his hands braced on the dashboard.
“Thank You, Lord,” he said, not moving for a long time. “We’re safe! The woman’s actually got me praying.”
“That’s gut!” She tried to laugh.
“Just let me behind the wheel,” Robby said, getting out. “I declare I will never teach an Amish woman to drive again. Never in all my life.”