Highway to the Danger Zone

I will never live down my high school driving habits.

I saw my neighbor from my high school days this weekend. What did she bring up? My driving.

I well remember the incident she described to my husband, whom I did not know in those days. But she remembers details that were lost to me.

I took three junior high students to and from school daily. Four people in a Ford Falcon is crowded. Sometimes another girl, Robin, would hitch a ride. I should never have let this girl ride with me because she egged me on to dangerous behavior.

After all, I was 16 years old and completely invulnerable, right?

I only remember having five people in the car that day, not including my neighbor. But she says she was there and that I had three other boys in the car. One more wanted to ride with me and we had absolutely no more room. According to her, I told him he could ride in the trunk. I don't remember that at all.

Robin urged me to drive ever faster on this gravel road. And I foolishly listened. We topped a hill going a high rate of speed, went airborne and landed hard on the other side. The impact ripped a hole in my oil pan. One girl hit the ceiling and bit her tongue badly. That much I remember.

My neighbor said that my spare tire broke loose of its mount and landed the kid in the trunk. We had to lift it off him. That part is gone from my memory, but certainly not from hers.

Sigh.

I sure hope I never listened to Robin again. This story is definitely not one I ever completely explained to my mother.

By the way, I haven't gotten a speeding ticket in years. Maybe age does bring wisdom.