Pedro and I

I'm learning that I take myself WAY too seriously.


For those of you that just went, "Wow, girl, you just figured that out?" It's come in small degrees over time, thank you very much. Besides, if people were regularly confused by your attempts at humor, you'd be serious too.


However, with this amazing revelation has come a new ability--the ability to laugh at myself. You have no idea how hard it is for someone as introspective as I am to laugh at my mistakes instead of cry over them. But a catalyst to learning this new skill has been driving.

So, I thought I'd share with you all my first experience driving a stick shift.

On Sunday, I casually approached my father to ask him a question. He answered my question and then just as casually handed me a set of keys. "Go sit in your new car," he told me.

Had it not been for the two friends standing there for which I had to keep it together, I might have had a panic attack. "Is this a joke?" I asked him.

"No." He pointed past me. I turned to behold a little, well-used, white car.

Thus, I was introduced to Pedro "Slow Poke" Rodriguez. Long name for such a little car, I know, but I couldn't decide on just one. My friends joined me as I sat reverently in the driver's seat and inserted the key. I turned it...and the car did nothing. Great, I thought, here's the joke. The thing doesn't run. After several more tries, though, Pedro cooperated and we woke the sleeping beast.

He was a beast indeed. That evening, my father taught me to drive him. I had never driven a stick shift, and the idea was a daunting one. Still, in my excitement, fear took second place and I climbed behind the wheel. This time, Pedro started on the second try. I felt accomplished. I pushed down the clutch, shifted to reverse and...stalled the car. I tried again. Same story. Finally, after killing the engine about five times, we successfully pulled out of the driveway.

I pushed down on the gas pedal, succeeded in getting the car to smoke, and crept down our street.

Then we got to the hard part--Lake-Cook Road. "Are you sure you wanna do this?" my dad asked.

"Yeah," I said, hesitating. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, Lake-Cook isn't the easiest place to start on a stick shift. So if you're gonna commit, you gotta commit."

I committed.

We roared onto the busy road. I hadn't counted on having to shift so much to get to 45mph. It certainly wasn't a breeze. But it wasn't a nightmare either. Actually, it was...fun. What was this new sense of adventure?

We cruised around within in a five mile radius of home. Red lights were the hardest part. "Shift," my dad commanded as we started up to 45mph again. I obeyed.

"Shift!"

Again, I complied, a little perturbed.

"Shift!"

"Aarrgghh!" With a groan, I stomped on the clutch and yanked the lever down into fourth gear.

"All right! We're cruisin'!" my dad celebrated.

Thank goodness, I thought.
Twenty minutes later, we were home in one piece and I had fallen head-over-heels for Pedro, with all his stick shift charm. Our old minivan had seemed like a tired mother, desperate to pass me off to someone else once I had learned enough from her. Pedro was a zippy little friend, doing his best to lift me to new heights.

I know it's only a car. But it's my first car, a car I had secretly prayed for, one I didn't even need. It was a gracious blessing from my Heavenly Father, given in part just to make me smile. And it really does have a way of lifting one to new adventures. Who knows where Pedro and I will go next? For now, just picture me riding off into the sunset, learning to laugh at myself in my sweet new ride.