My Volvo: Crazy Accelerator of my Juvenile Life

The stoplight changed from red to green. I let up on the brake and made a precise turn onto Belmont. I had perambulated these streets my whole life, walking and biking until my legs collapsed from exhaustion. But today, driving down these streets, I began to realize I had opened up a whole new chapter of my life. I was already an expert driver in my opinion. Though only my second time behind the wheel of my old, silver Volvo I already cruised all the busy intersections; fast and proficient.

The feeling of independence and animated maturity seemed boundless on that early September evening. The air still warm, summer lingering in the fingers of the trees as they blew with the only first sign of fall, -a crisp breeze. I reached for the radio against the warning eye of my mother, and MGMT’s Time to Pretend came on. “To live fast and die young, we’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun.” I could not help but smile and press slightly harder on the accelerator. Driving had become my new synonym for independence. It functioned as a real-life reminder that I was getting older. I came down Hawthorne now; driving past the 2ed-hand stores I frequently paid homage to, past Swirl the frozen yogurt from heaven. All these places I loved, but they appeared different somehow, I now saw them from the driver’s seat.

 “Mt. Tabor?” I asked mom, though I had already made up my mind. We had to go there. Mt. Tabor was where anything sentimental to me could really be placed in prospective. I am a runner. And the old dormant volcano, now made into a public park, with its gorgeous reservoirs and shaded paths had been my haven for years, my second home. I had stood at the middle reservoir countless times, asking the silhouette of Portland what to do with my life. Sometimes immediate answers came, sometimes they did not. But one thing made itself certain, these conversations brought me to love Mt tabor. Overtime, it became my only real confidante, and I felt obliged to share everything with it, including the new fact that I could drive.    

“Sure, why not? We can go up to Mt Tabor,” my mother replied. “Seeing that you are doing so well,” she added.

A warm, engulfing sensation of understated pride came over me as I drove the Volvo up my old, familiar running route. We passed all the houses that had become my daily scenery, from the miles and miles I had drilled into my legs; my life. “How was driving going to change my life?” I pondered to myself. But really, I knew. I have always possessed a constant need to travel and explore. Running had been one way to do this, so had biking. But now that I had a 330-pound engine, I could do things on a grander scale. My Volvo was going to take me places, help me escape to the Gorge or Central Oregon on weekends, go up to the mountain to ski after school, or drive to concerts in Seattle. Oh; what euphoria I felt for life at that moment.   

We entered the gate to the old park, and continued up the windy road, which lead to the top. Overhead a lush canopy of green foliage stretched, warm air and a soft breeze tickled my skin and blew penny blond wisps of hair across my sunburned cheeks. We drove by the middle reservoir, the one where I always stopped to admire the city. This Portland that I loved so much, buildings etched into the West Hills, beyond that the coastal range and than the ocean. The world seemed boundless.

“Can we go to the top?” I asked Mom. I wanted to see a last sunset before school started, before I was reminded that there really were rules in this lovely grand, new, free life of mine.

“Sure,” said mom. “Just take the turns slowly.”

The road leading up often had bikers and runners on it, but I maneuvered the Volvo skillfully, and soon we arrived at the parking lot, the one that faces the basketball court inside the crater of the old, doormat volcano.

I pulled into that parking lot, spirits high wanting nothing less than to make a beautiful parking job that would highlight the range of my driving skills.

“Why don’t you go park on the other side,” my mother said.

I pulled around and made a straight drive in to the parking spot. Then in I hit the accelerator, and all peace shattered.

The surge of forward acceleration must have lasted only a second. But I still remember even today, the loss of control, the huge crack as the car took out a pole and then a slightly more muffled scratching as a bush was ripped with frightening strength out of the ground.

All thoughts of adventure and freedom had been wiped from my head, in their place had been planted a seed of fear. It made me feel small and young again. All feelings of control and independence had turned into dust and an embarrassed shade of red flooded up through me, staining my cheeks and causing me to cover my face with my hands.

“Oh God I'm so sorry!” I exclaimed, overcome with self-abhorrence.

“Sweetie, don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re okay?” Mom soothed, but her nonchalance, and the fact that she wasn’t even mad made me even more embarrassed.

Three people walking through the parking lot stopped to stare.

“Oh my God mom they think I'm the worst driver ever! They must think I'm a drunk driver!” I don’t know why exactly that last thought came into my head but I was obviously very distraught.

“She’s just learning to drive,” my mother said to the people as she stepped into the driver seat of the car. I had already dived into the backseat, too embarrassed to even bother getting through the door. The people nodded and gave half understanding smiles, but continued to stare at me.

I sunk down in the seat as my mother pulled out of the parking lot and drove home.

That night, lying in bed, I realized that maybe I was not meant to take things so fast, the scare of the accelerator had served as a requite sign of how quickly things can get out of control.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

constructive CRITICISM please!

Reviews

[Steve]

I really like the flawless conversation ability you have. The converation was easy to follow and really make this work. I also like this since I was in the shoes of the driver a few years back and know how embarrassing that was!!
This story really flowed though and kept my interest.