Slide into the driver’s seat,
hands at 10 and 2.
Adam tried to teach me,
Dad too.
But the rushing traffic,
joggers with strollers,
weaving bikers,
learning to drive in the busiest city in the world?
No thanks.
Here we are,
back again,
me shaking
behind the wheel of a car.
Turn the key slowly.
Dad in the seat next to me.
I put on the blinker,
pull out into the street.
It starts to drizzle,
raindrops fall slowly
into each other,
taking their time.
Others run quick.
Dad says learning to drive
in inclement weather is essential.
Focus my whole self on the road.
For him, for me.
This time it’s not as scary as I remembered.
I glide up 96th Street.
Roll back down to 79th.
Do one exit on the highway.
Though my right turns are a bit wide,
my braking a bit slow,
Dad says much improved, good job,
we’ll do it again soon.
I hear his voice catch,
soften,
wobble,
like a drop sliding down the dash.
My view now obstructed by more than just the rain.