Learning how to drive...

I was thinking about an FHE spin-the-bottle activity that we did once at the Bishop's house. One of the questions was, "Did you pass your driver's test the first time you took it?" I did, so my answer is very uninteresting, but then I thought about the first time I got behind the wheel.

Scottie and I wanted to play basketball, but my dad's car was in the way. He told me that I should back it out. I was 14 and admittedly I could never remember at the time which was the gas and which was the brake. I tried to ask my dad, but he was impatient and told me just to back out. So I put my foot on the brake and didn't go anywhere, switched to the gas and started to move.
The problem was that I didn't have a feel for how fast the car would move based on the pressure applied by my nervous foot. I went a little fast and freaked and pulled my foot off, but I was going backwards into the street. My foot was just hanging in the air and the car was continuing its progression into the road, bouncing off the curb. So I, at this moment completely panicked, dropped my foot down onto a pedal again, hoping for the brake, but nailing the gas. By now I'm cruising across the street headed straight at the neighbor's house. I see my dad start sprinting at me, arms flailing, "Brake, Vanessa, BRAKE!!!!" I finally switched my foot to the left pedal and my dad's car abruptly stopped. I was about 4 or 5 feet away from Garry and Mary's tree and was most assuredly on the sidewalk.
Clark had by now caught up with me and angrily said, "Get out of the car, I need to drive it back to our house." I was laughing; it was intensely funny. One of the funniest things, however, is hard to describe. It has something to do with a family birth defect that I call the Swenson Slows. We are a speed-challenged family, and even when I was a kid and only ever played sports, I was pretty slow. My dad's defect is only further pronounced by "The Penguin." The faster my dad walks the farther apart his toes get, while his heels stay the same distance apart. Instead of his feet looking like this | |, they look like this \ /. It was hysterical. Think of it, you're zooming backwards toward a tree, your dad comes running slowly at you, running like a penguin, screaming wildly at you, "Brake! BRAKE!!!" I died, I was laughing so hard. This only angered Clark more.

It was a happy memory. I was reminded of it every time I looked across the street and saw the dark tire marks on the sidewalk just a few feet from a very lucky tree.