.... where family is the source of humor!

Watching out for Autumn Leaves by Carol Wells

When a passenger in a vehicle you sometimes find yourself wishing your invisible brake worked or fighting the urge on sounding like a backseat driver. I would never have made it as a driver's education instructor, particularly in southern New Jersey area where people's feet are slightly heavier when on the gas pedal and they have a penchant of "getting one car ahead". This is not including thoughts of natural road hazards one may encounter while behind the wheel of a car - say like something deciding to dart across the road.

Due to my husband's health problems, amongst other things, during 2005 we had medical transportation arranged for our family. We generally had the same driver, henceforth referred to as Ms. A., who was temporarily working for the company - her ending date slated near the end of November.

Ms. A. and I hit it off almost immediately, talking up a storm as she drove us from Point A to Point B then back to Point A. As it could easily take over an hour to reach Point B, our conversations helped keep us both entertained during the drive.

Ms. A. is Latino, nothing negative about that but when she lapsed into speaking Spanish I was lost as my Spanish is limited to "hola", "mucha lucha" (due to the cartoon), "grande" (oddly thanks to coffee shops that don't have large cups of coffee but grande ones), and such. Definitely not enough for the purpose of conversation.

She also has a lead foot when driving. At least more than once she had me tapping my invisible brake while I sat in the passenger seat as she wove between cars. When she is driving, however, she does not like interferences - meaning things that will slow her down: cars or people.

One evening, in November, a quirk of fate happened as her schedule ran far behind schedule on getting us back home. Sun started to set and my son started to panic as he knew Ms. A. had us back to Point A before dark. "Oh no," he sighed while looking out the window. "It's getting dark. I'm going to miss my cartoons!" Ms. A. sought out a short cut to avoid some of the evening rush hour traffic, which meant going down some streets that my son did not recognize. A few minutes later his mournful lament was modified to, "It's dark out. We're lost! She took the wrong turn, didn't she, Mom?"

"I hate driving at night," Ms. A. said as we went down a lightly populated residential road. "And I am supposed to wear my contacts while driving at night but I didn't get a chance to go home this afternoon and put them in. Well, I am supposed to wear them during the daytime too but …."

The latter bit of news is not that surprising to have heard once one got to know Ms. A. No, I did not feel the slightest bit shocked to hear that she needed to wear contacts but only wore them part of the time. I also was not surprised to hear that she had been kept busy so unable to go home that afternoon to put in her contacts.

"I really do hate driving at night. You know - deer can jump out in front of you. Well, other animals too. I hope to God we don't hit a deer."

Somehow the three thoughts, contacts, dislike of night driving, and jumping out onto the roadway animals, did not help one to feel comfortable in the role of a passenger. An 8-year-old in the backseat lamenting about being lost did not help one's nerves much more.

Then it happened: Ms. A. did a quick lean forward, "What is that?"

I looked and did indeed see something in the road, "A slight dip in the road?"

"No," she said after a couple of seconds, which was all the warning I had before she did a svelte swerve around the obstacle in the roadway, "That - what was that?"

I looked again, while gripping the dashboard with my right hand, "A leaf."

"A leaf? You're kidding me, right," Ms. A. said while continuing our evening trek along the dimly lit road.

"No," I replied, "It was a leaf. I think maybe maple but it could've been oak."

"I thought it was a rat," Ms. A. said after a moment, relief in her voice that she had somehow averted disaster.

"No, not a rat - just a leaf."

"I could've sworn it was a rat running across the road," she replied.

"I don't think too many people would've complained if you had struck a rat," I said. "But you can rest easy, I think the leaf has made it across the road by now in one piece."

Ms. A. then proceeded, when seeing other leaves trying to blow across the road, to point them out to me while asking, "See that? Now tell me - doesn't that look like a rat or something trying to cross the road."

"I see another leaf trying to cross the road without looking both ways first. Whew, never mind - you don't need to swerve, its safely across now." Naturally, my lack of concern for the safety of fallen autumn leaves on roadways merited a slightly scathing look from Ms. A.

Humorous Book Recommendations:             [ view all ]
Shiksa Goddess: Or How I Spent My Forties
[Wendy Wasserstein; 256 pages]
Noted playwright Wendy Wasserstein, now in her late 40s, the humorist tackles topics such as dieting, the theater, her late cat, Manhattan real estate and Thanksgiving. She also trains her eye on public figures such as Hillary Rodham Clinton, Bette Midler and Jamie Lee Curtis. Can you relate?

Hickory: All right, Mrs. Gale. But someday, they're going to erect a statue to me in this town.
Auntie Em : Well, don't start posing for it now.
~- L. Frank Baum, screenplay, Wizard of Oz (1939)

Humor Is Relative thanks Cay Dickson, from the Houston Chronicle, for the compliment!

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