Driving Class Part One: The First Step is Admitting It

I had my driver’s class over the weekend and it was pretty ridiculous. I’ll spare you the ramblings of a teacher that was a cruel marriage of Mr. Rogers and Bob Ross, whose teachings were a verbal backalley abortion, and just say that I wasn’t the only one there for BS reasons. Granted, I sat next to the small Asian girl that ran an old lady off the road after cutting her off and brake checking her, but there was also the 60 year old man who did a California stop at a stop sign in the middle of the night when no one else was around, or the girl that went through a red light on her scooter because the rotation of the light had skipped her 3 times.

I still actively participated and cracked some jokes that got some of the other guys my age to talk to me. They were all nice guys, most of them who had just been pulled over for speeding one too many times. And afterwards, I’m sure that they all left class and sped home (I know I did).

There were, however, also people a little high and mighty, like Janet, the fifty year old woman with greasy blonde hair, coke bottle glasses, and a permanent sneer, looking like someone who belonged more in a labcoat overlooking a mouse with an ear growing out of its back than in a driving school classroom. We started class by going in a circle and telling everyone our names, what we did for a job, and what plans we had for Father’s Day. Not exactly exposé questions here. Well, it came to Janet, and she snapped, “My name is Janet and the rest is personal.”

When we went around a second time and asked what brought us to driving school, every single person gave an answer except for Janet, who didn’t so much as look up, so the teacher skipped her. Maybe she ran a red light, maybe she beat a hooker to death with the hardback novel she was reading the entire time instead of listening or participating in class. I never did find out.

Shortly after, the teacher very nicely reminded us to turn off our cellphones, and Janet immediately says, “I can’t shut off mine. I have a 90 year old Aunt who is not well and I need to keep it on.” The teacher asks if she can put in on vibrate, but Janet says (very firmly, too), “No, I won’t be able to feel it. I’m going to keep it on.” Our teacher, Mr. Rogers/Captain Kangaroo, who has about as much power over our class as a rich yuppie has over her screaming, spoiled brat kids, backs down and says, “Okay, that’s fine.”

The reason I bring that up is because for the second day of class we had to bring in a picture of something that holds value to us. They were all passed around the class, and many others brought pictures of their wives, girlfriends, kids, etc. When it comes to Janet, no one even expects her to participate, but she pulls a big glossy picture out of her purse and murmurs, “I brought a picture of my 90 year old aunt.” The teacher’s eyes grow wide–my goodness, troll-under-the-bridge Janet is actually participating–and she walks over to Janet and exclaims, “Oh, how sweet! Can I take a look a–” and Janet, like a wild dog protecting the last piece of snausage, tucks it back into her purse as quickly as she had pulled it out and snaps, “My aunt wishes her appearance to remain private.”

Seeing as how she hadn’t participated in anything else, I’m amazed she even bothered to bring the picture in if no one else could see it. And as for the picture, if it was just a picture of a 90 year old woman and not Hungarian pornography, who cares? I’ve seen 90 year old people all the time. The minute I saw her aunt’s face, I probably would have already forgotten it.

But being the jackass that I am, it came around me and I said that I had a picture of my dog but my dog wished to remain private. Unfortunately, Janet wasn’t even paying attention, but the other people in class thought it was hilarious.

Afterwards, it was revealed that *gasp–I never saw this coming* those things of value were mentioned in class because they can be RIPPED AWAY FROM US by our horrible driving choices and we should do everything we can to protect them by abiding the laws of the road. It had a profound effect on me; next time I cut off a family of eight and give them the one finger salute, or the next time I brake check a ninety year old man and send his scalding hot latte right onto the penis he hasn’t been able to use in over 40 years anyway, I will think long and hard about my dog, or my family, or maybe even Janet’s 90 year old aunt.

So let me tell you, my brothers and sisters… I have been inside the joint, I have seen the eeeeeevil of my ways, and I have come out a reformed man. Praise be to Jeebus.