Gertrude and I Can’t Wait
When I was growing up, my best friend, Amy, used to drive a Town and County Station wagon, affectionately named Gertrude. Gertrude was a tank – she had faux wood sides, a bench front seat, and an easy-going attitude. Amy’s dad, a former engineer, was less easy-going. In fact, he was detail oriented and meticulous – which meant anything he owned would live for years beyond its expiration date.
When Amy and I first got our driver’s licenses, her dad gave us some rules about driving together - wanting to make sure that we stayed safe. Along with the basics that my parents imparted (seatbelt, hands at 10 at 2, etc), Amy’s dad had a few additional stipulations. No adjusting the mirror to apply lipstick, no using the windshield wipers without sufficient rain, absolutely no slamming of the doors, and the one we most chafed against - no music.
As is the case for most teenagers, we followed those rules when her dad was around but once we were on our own in the car, the radio went on, though Amy still winced if I slammed the door or tried to use the mirror to apply my lip gloss. And as often happens, we found out that those rules would have been good to follow.
On this particular day, Amy and I were on our way back from high school, singing along to one of our favorite songs – (I Can’t Wait by Nu Shooz perhaps?) when we came up to the turn onto Ledge Road. That’s when things went crazy.
Amy remembers an oncoming car causing the chaos - I just remember dancing to the music - but regardless of what started it, she hit the gas going around the corner instead of the brake.
Imagine being a bird flying overhead as Gertrude, the station wagon tank, went weaving back and forth across the road bouncing in and out of the ditches along the way as two sixteen-year-old girls, hair flying, side by side on the bench seat fought to control the wheel.
Now that I know we would survive the experience, I wish someone had gotten a video.
When we finally got the car under control, we sat, shaky, at a standstill. Grateful to be alive, we laughed nervously, but then Amy’s face whitened. What if her dad found out? Hoping we could braze it out since there was no damage to Gertrude, we continued to Amy’s house.
Of course, we didn’t realize that the front grill was stuffed with grass we’d collected and that all four hubcaps were gone.
Needless to say, our driving was curtailed for a bit after that - and our next time out together, we virtuously kept the radio off.
As we take the turn into summer, I remind myself to learn from the past - and slow down at the curve and take a breath. That way I can enjoy the music without the chaos.
How about you? Are you navigating any curves in your life? If you need some support, reach out and we’ll set up a free discovery call to discuss how life coaching with me can help.
Happy Travels!
Not Gertrude - but the same make and model!
