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The Driving Lesson
“The El” runs from Yankee Stadium ten miles North to Woodlawn. A railway on
stilts, it stands on 25-foot-tall, rivet-studded metal girders that trisect the
entire length of Jerome Avenue. From the air, it might look like some enormous,
grime-encrusted, cast-iron millipede, preying on the spine of the Borough.
At least, that’s the way I remember it on this particular day. And I was only
being tormented by one of its million legs.
I was ready to take my driving test. Even in New York, where a car was a mixed
blessing, getting a driver’s license was a huge rite of passage for a boy — a
secular Bar Mitzvah if you will. In preparation, my father had taken me on a
last practice run. All had gone well — until the final moment.
Jerome Avenue is a wide six-lane concourse. The two rows of the el’s legs
straddle the middle traffic lanes, leaving two additional lanes on either side —
one for traffic and one, next to the curb, for parallel parking.
Finding a parking spot in The Bronx took an extraordinary amount of luck.
Actually getting into one took the skill of a neurosurgeon. Parkers used every
available inch, and it was not uncommon for a car to be trapped in a parking
spot, locked between the bumpers of those in front and behind. Squeezing into a
vacant space was the most dreaded part of the driving test.
Returning from our jaunt, my father and I had discovered a parking spot directly
in front of our building. Jubilant, I pulled next to the car in front, and
started to back into the spot. That’s when my war with the el started.
As the rear of the car slid into the space, the nose of the car swung to the
left — where one of the pillars blocked it. I stopped, and pulled forward to try
again. Again, I edged the car backward into the space. Again, the pillar was in
the way. I tried pulling further up. Now the rear of the car wouldn’t clear the
parked car on my right. I tried pulling further back, but now couldn’t cut the
rear far enough into the gap.
My father watched patiently, as sweat started to run down my cheeks from my
sideburns. I made repeated attempts. The geometry just wouldn’t work!
Finally, I turned to him and said, “I can’t do it.”
Wordlessly, he got out of the passenger door, and walked around to the driver’s
side. I slid over; he got in. He put the car in gear, pulled forward a few feet,
and greased into the parking spot.
I heaved a sigh of relief as he switched off the engine. I opened the passenger
door to get out. He didn’t move.
Still looking forward, he said, “Y’know, I never thought I’d see that.”
“What?” I asked.
“As long as I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you give up. I never thought you
would.”
Maybe it was just a simple statement of fact. In my memory, it rings like a
death knell. Whatever it was, I said to him, “Dad, could you pull out again?”
Wordlessly, he started the car. I shut my door, and he pulled out into the
traffic lane — right back to where we’d started. I got out and we switched
seats. I put the car in gear, took a deep breath, and carefully backed into the
parking spot.
We got out of the car, and I handed him the keys. As we walked to our building,
he put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed, just a bit.
As I write this, I suddenly realize that it’s been half a century since that
day. I won’t pretend that, in the fifty long years since, I’ve been successful
at everything I’ve attempted. But I can’t count the times that, when things have
been going badly, I’ve heard his voice in my ear, “Y’know, I never thought I see
that,” and tried just once more.
"Parallel...
Thornton Utz
Buy This at Allposters.com
Reviews
(applause received) 
Kerry Lown Whalen
Australia
"I could picture the scene,
imagine the relationship between father and son, and appreciate
the lesson learnt that day."
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