Chapter 41: The Trip

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I remembered to buy a couple of rolls of B&W and color film for my cameras. After the shopping, I visited my parents for half an hour to bid them goodbye and to pick up my camera bag. Dad was out again. Mom asked about the dinner, and I gave her a short account, mentioning the chance encounter with Alex. She knew I was in a hurry, but was also happy that I dropped by; she sensed my excitement. I was really looking forward to being with Dana, and I guess it showed. Mom seemed almost as excited as I was, seeing me so enthusiastic, and she didn't ask me in detail about the dinner-or any thing else. As I was leaving, she filled a big glass, and followed me to the car park. When I drove away, I caught her on the rear mirror, throwing the water. Even though Mom wasn't superstitious, she went through that strange custom every time I went on a trip. I never understood the symbolism of it. Once, when I had asked her she told me it meant 'go with the water and come with the water, ' but still I failed to see or understand the symbolism.

I even managed to squeeze in an hour of light exercise and an hour under the sun lamp at the gym, before finally driving to Kathy's to finish my packing. I almost forgot to take my bokken, but I saw it lying on the vanity table at the last minute. In a hurry, I had to look for the leather carry bag for my swords, and took it with me, putting the bokken in it. With its sling, it was easy to carry it on my shoulder, and I knew I wanted to practice it again, curious to find out if I had forgotten any of the skills and techniques. Sarah's suitcase wasn't something I could miss, so it ended up in the trunk, next to mine. Finally, I called Sis at the hospital, and bid goodbye. She sounded cheery on the phone, and wished Sarah and me a good trip and a good vacation with Dana.

I drove to the hospital. When I checked at the front desk-Orthopedics-the nurse told me Sarah was busy with a patient. I hung around, waiting for her. A bit later, I saw her with another doctor, and a patient on a gurney. She excused herself to talk to me.

"Sorry, Mitch. We've got a patient, and it's going to take time," she said apologetically.

"It's all right, Sarah. Take your time."

"Thank you for being understanding."

"Come on, Sarah. You're a doctor, and the patient needs you."

She smiled, and hurried down the corridor.

About 40 minutes later, she was back, still in her whites, but carrying a stack of books, a coat and a bag, which I helped her with. We walked to the car, and I asked about the patient. She told me he had two leg fractures, and it took her and her colleague some time to set one of the bones, and put on a cast. There wasn't much space in the trunk, so we put her hospital whites, coat, books, and other stuff on the back seat, and drove off. About 20 minutes later, we cleared the city traffic, and were out of the city, on a single lane road that led to the highway.

"Are you in a hurry?" she asked, seeing me drive above the speed limits.

"I want to get to the highway soon, so you can drive longer before the light fails," I said, getting an appreciative smile. "Are you too tired to drive?" I asked.

"I'm never too tired for that," she replied.

"Better get some rest though," I suggested.

Taking my advice, she reclined the seat back, and getting comfortable, closed her eyes. It was going to be short rest for her, but I felt she would be better off when she took the wheel. In half an hour we were on the highway. I stopped at a gas station, filled up the tank, and bought a road map; my maps were two years old, and there were new roads being finished. When I took the driver's seat, Sarah gave me a disappointed look. I told her she could rest a bit more before she took the wheel, but she was like an excited kid with a birthday gift being withheld from her. So, I had to give in, and we changed seats again. Since the road was almost empty, I quickly walked her through some simple things, so that she could get a feel for the car and how it responded.

I asked her to brake hard, a couple of times, at different speeds, so she would know what to expect. I was pleasantly surprised by how patiently she listened to me and did what I asked. After that, I let her have at it. She was a natural, and very shortly, she was relaxed and enjoying the drive. I settled back, and watched the scenery, but I was discreetly observing her. I noticed she didn't brake at the curves, just easing off the accelerator to let the car slow down, and before we hit the curve, she would shift down, fast and smoothly, and use the engine to brake. Then, just before she cleared the curve, she would speed up, and shift up again. She knew what she was doing, and I realized she was putting on a show for my benefit.

"Show off!" I retorted.

With a soft laugh, she said, "What? You think you know all the stuff?" she replied.

"I learned a lot, some the hard way."

"I understand, Mitch. I'm enjoying myself immensely, and I want you to relax. You're in good hands."

"Yeah! I am. Sorry, Sarah. Don't mind me."

"Are there any speed checks on this road?" she asked.

"I wouldn't know. It's been a while since I drove this way. Better slow down when you're approaching a gas station, or the top of cliffs. That's where they usually hide."

"OK," she replied, and stepped on the accelerator, keeping the speed around 160-170, some 40 kilometers above the speed limit. She drove with confidence, but when she took one hand off the steering wheel, I had to interfere.

"Sarah, two hands, please. I'll explain why," I said.

She gave a quizzical look, but followed my advice, while reducing speed.

"With power assisted steering, the steering wheel is very light and very responsive. It's both good and bad. It helps to maneuver easily, when you're parking, but because it's so light, you have to be more careful, especially at high speeds. The slightest adjustment translates to quite a bit of lateral movement. You hardly feel the potholes on the road, because the hydraulics of the system dampens the effects of potholes, bumps, debris, but if something goes wrong, you might be caught unaware, and overcompensate. Variable power assisted steering is much nicer. At low speeds the steering is very light, to help you park or maneuver easily, and at higher speeds, the steering is heavier, so it helps the driver, but this car doesn't have that system," I explained. Taking a pause, I added, "It's something I learned from Gary, driving cars on really bad surfaces."

She nodded but gave me a questioning look.

"Look, this doesn't exactly apply to this car, but Gary demonstrated something to me with a simple test, and I always keep it in mind. I noticed he always had two hands on the steering wheel at high speeds, and we had a discussion about it. So, one day when we were in a garage, he asked me to get in the car, and after the car was jacked up, he said, 'Grab the steering wheel as if you're driving.' I did, holding it with one hand, lightly, as was my usual style. Grabbing the front tire, he gave a shove-not even a hard shove, by the way-and the bloody thing slipped between my fingers, spinning. We repeated it again, and that time I was ready, holding it with two hands, and it wasn't that bad. He told me, that was what could happen with a pothole at high speed, or if I had a flat. That was with a Renault with a heavy, non-power assisted steering. Perhaps it may not apply to cars with power steering, but it left an impression on me. I don't want to find out what could happen when a tire goes flat at high speed, whether it's with power steering or not."

"I understand, Mitch," she said. Mulling something in her mind, she added, "He must have had some experience."

"I don't know. I guess... I really enjoyed it whenever he drove. He was a daredevil on the roads. Very fast, but in complete control. He showed me some nifty tricks like a 180 degree turn with the hand-brake, shifting without using the clutch, and a few other things."

"Shifting without the clutch?"

"You can let the car slow down, by taking your foot off the gas pedal, and keep your hand on the stick, exerting a little pressure. As the rpms go down, at one point, you'll feel the stick going kinda slack, and you can pull it into neutral. You can also tap the gas pedal to increase the rpms, and try to shift the gear without using the clutch. It's more difficult, as you need to know the exact rpm and it's not really good for the gears, although it's a neat trick."

"You must have had a ball with him."

"I did." I laughed remembering the crazy times with Gary.

"Was it the accident that changed everything for you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Based on what you told me about the accident, and how you're being careful."

"Sometimes I take risks, but as I told you before I try to plan it carefully. I guess I also had my fill of the thrills, doing crazy things, and stuff. The roads to the rigs are mostly gravel, and empty, so I used to speed like an idiot. Speedy Gonzales. That was me!" I chuckled at the memory of the cartoon character. "I got to drive under different conditions; mud, snow, or icy surfaces, so I experienced quite a few things."

"What things?"

"Sort of near-misses, if you know what I mean. They were scary. So I ended up learning some things the hard way."

"God, Mitch!"

"Honest, Sarah. They weren't dangerous. That one accident, however, was an eye opener. The ironic part is, I wasn't even trying to do something crazy at the time. I had a momentary distraction, and things went wrong. The current company is very big on safety, and that includes road safety. Two years ago, they brought a specialist from the UK in for two weeks. I was one of the many that attended the safe driving course from him, and apart from the usual things, I learned a lot. How to create space around the car in traffic, anticipating the moves of other drivers, being ready for any stupid stunts other drivers might pull, how to keep looking for possible trouble and plan ahead, and some other stuff. Driving in that part of the country is really an adventure. For example, at nighttime you have to be extra careful on the roads. Sometimes there are herds crossing the road, and most of the shepherds don't carry any torch light or anything to signal if they see a vehicle approach. So, if you're speeding you could end up in an awful accident, before you realized what happened. Once, I remember seeing an eerie green light like a laser beam at a distance, and I immediately braked. That was the light from the high beam reflecting back from the eyes of a herd of sheep."

"Really? Does it look like that?"

"Yeah. It really does. I guess I was lucky, because I've read about it in a book. There was this American who had traveled extensively in the Middle East, and had written his memoirs; the places he visited, the local customs, and any other interesting tidbits. The book was full of really funny and stupid incidents. One of them was about night driving in the deserted roads near villages during the nighttime, and his description was an exact match to what I experienced that particular night. Never drive faster than how far you could see. It's a lesson I always keep in mind."

I noticed she had slowed down. "It's all right, Sarah. If you want to speed up, do it, as long as there aren't many cars in the other lanes. I do the same. If the road gets crowded, I slow down to the speed limit, and use the right lane."

She nodded, and speeded up. I put on the stereo, and watched the scenery while listening to the music. We talked about music and other things. At one point, I noticed she was checking the rear mirror frequently with an annoyed expression on her face. We were in the right lane, and using the mirror on the sunshade, I checked the rear.

"He's been on my bumper for quite sometime," Sarah said with an annoyed tone.

I noticed she was tapping the brake, not to slow down but enough to get the brake lights lit up, but the asshole was still on our bumper.

"I think it's a guy and he probably saw a beautiful girl driving a sporty car, and wants to play," I said.

"Yeah. Annoying asshole," she replied.

"Unless you slow down, he will probably be on your bumper. If you slow down too much he might decide to stick around, and play games as he would realize you noticed him. Ignore him; try to look as if you're busy talking with me while bleeding speed slowly, but not too much. He'll eventually lose interest, especially seeing you busy chatting with me."

She smiled, and we continued talking. As I expected, after 15 minutes the asshole decided we were driving too slow for his taste, and moved to the left lane, and sped past us.

"If a similar thing happens when you're driving by yourself, pay attention to him discreetly, but look as if you're busy with anything other than driving. For example, keep leaning to the stereo as if you're busy with the radio or something, and let the car slow down. If you want to check him on the mirror, try to look like you're checking your hair. There's nothing more annoying than a woman driver who is busy with something else than driving, and that last trick-checking hair on the mirror-really turns off the guys. If you play their game by reducing speed drastically or speeding up, they will keep on doing what they are doing."

"And if that doesn't work out?"

"Well, then pull up at the first gas station, and have a coffee or something and get some rest. If he pulls up, ask the pump guy for the nearest traffic police, making sure the asshole hears you, and get a piece of paper and note down his license plate. That should be enough to get him off your tail."

That last one got a good laugh. "Where did you come up with those? From Kathy?"

"Hell, No!" I exclaimed, but she was partly right in her guess. "Umm... well... kinda. I mean, she told me once how she did the radio trick. The hair trick is my own, because I know how I feel about some drivers, especially women drivers. Before you say anything, yes, I admit; I'm a male chauvinist pig when it comes to driving. I'm sorry to say that, but it drives me nuts when I see a woman checking her hair or make up in the rearview mirror, instead of paying attention to the traffic."

"You are a male chauvinist pig!" Sarah exclaimed.

"I told you I am," I retorted.

"But, I still love you," she added softly, with a smile.

"Umm... thanks I guess."

"I think you can do better than a simple thanks," she retorted.

"Like what?"

"You could give me a kiss. Later."

"Oh! I love to kiss you anytime, Sarah, you know that. I wasn't talking about you, and as far as I'm concerned, you're a very good driver."

"Thank you," she said, then added, "I think we have a bit of trouble." Her eyes were on the car in front of us. It was the same car, and now he was slowing and speeding.

"Keep at the same speed, and see what he does. If he slows down overtake him. If he tries to play games, stay in the right lane, keep your distance, and pull up at the first gas station."

"OK!" she replied, then asked, "What is it with guys when they see a woman driver?"

"I don't know. I guess it's a stupid and dangerous way to flirt. Especially when we see a beautiful girl in a sporty car. We expect her to be... umm... hot. You know, hot on wheels, hot in bed."

"Well, I'm hot in bed."

With a laugh, I said, "Yeah. And on wheels, too, if you want to be. As I said, it's a guy thing. If I were what I was like some years ago, I would have done what he's doing, but I know different."

"Really? You mean you wouldn't play these games, now? Even if you see a beautiful woman?"

"Well, no. I would keep my distance, and probably tag along to see if she would stop at a gas station, where I might get a chance to meet her if I'm curious enough, but I wouldn't play road games."

I saw a gas station sign, and asked her to pull over. Unfortunately, the asshole must have seen our signal, because he slowed down and switched lanes to stop at the gas station, too. We took some refreshments, and I filled the tank, and with a glance at the other car, I carefully wrote down his plate number.

"Is there a problem?" the guy asked, seeing me note down his plate number.

"I don't know, yet," I replied. After a pause, I locked my eyes on him, giving him a cold stare and said, "If you keep driving right on my bumper, or keep on playing road games, then I have a problem. I want to make sure I have the correct details to report to the police, in case of an accident."

He straightened himself in a threatening manner, then responded, "Is that a threat?"

I saw Sarah getting antsy with the developments, so I asked her to get in the car. Turning to the guy, I said, "I don't care for the way you drive or your attitude. If you're looking for trouble, you might find yourself in plenty, with the traffic police."

"Look here, pal. Nobody-"

"I'm not interested. Have a good day," I said, and ignoring his outbursts, I walked to the driver's side, and got in the car. I drove the short distance from the pumps to the shop, and parked, shutting the engine down. Opening the bottle of coke we bought, I took a swallow, while keeping an eye on the other car on the rear mirror. A few minutes later he drove off, with screeching tires, flipping me the bird.

"What a creep!" Sarah commented.

"That's nothing. I think he was reacting because he had to save face, and was trying to intimidate me, the macho crap. There are road psychos, and I hope he's not one of them. Some are real nuts when they get behind the wheel. It's a good time to take a short break," I replied, getting a nod.

About twenty minutes later, we were back on the road, and although I drove above the speed limit, I didn't drive fast, not wanting to catch up to the asshole. I kept an eye out for his car, as we passed the gas stations, to see if he pulled over, and after driving half an hour, we switched, and Sarah drove. She was tense and kept checking her mirrors frequently, but eventually relaxed, seeing no sign of him. A short while later, we got pulled over by police, where they were doing a speed check, and Sarah quickly informed me she had been driving under the speed limit.

It turned out the asshole had tried to preempt me. I was expecting a search of the car for drugs or something similar-a false tip to the police to give us some trouble-but he had told them he was threatened by a driver. After showing IDs and car registration, and answering some of the basic questions, I let Sarah do the talking to the officer, and explain the situation. We were lucky that the officer was mid-40s, with a fatherly look, and he quickly got the picture of what actually happened: a young and beautiful woman driving a sporty car and an idiot trying to play road games. The fact that she was beautiful and also a doctor in one of the well-known hospitals didn't hurt us. When she finished her account, I dug out and showed the paper with the plate number of the car, and gave a brief description of where the incident took place. I asked how long ago he passed the traffic check, trying to figure out the distance between us, and learned that he had passed some 20 minutes ago. I told him that we took a short break at the gas station to give him a head start. He asked Sarah how fast she was driving, and Sarah admitted to speeding on the empty stretches. He knew we had been driving fast, but not too fast, so he gave a polite verbal warning to Sarah.

"I'm not going to write you up for speeding, but please do me a favor, Miss. Drive slower," he said pointedly. "I know the temptation is great when you have a car like that, but you are too young and too beautiful to have a horrible accident and get injured."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll be more careful," Sarah replied, with a sincere tone.

"Good. Have a safe trip," he said, tipping his hat, and we drove off.

"That went well," I said.

"Yeah. I was expecting a ticket after admitting to speeding."

"Well, they didn't exactly have proof. I mean, they didn't clock us on the radar officially, but considering the distance and the time, it was obvious we had been speeding at some of the stretches. I think he got the picture correctly. The other guy had also been speeding, and fed them a lie; perhaps he was trying to make up for that. I don't know. He was nice enough though, and understanding."

"He was."

"They are usually nicer to doctors. That's almost universal, and not only in this country," I said. "And you're easy on the eyes. That didn't hurt either."

"Is that why you let me do the talking?" she retorted.

"But of course, Sarah," I returned, and received a slap on my thigh.

An hour later, the light was failing, the dusk settling, and there were more cars on the road, so we switched again. Sarah reclined her seat, getting comfortable, and closed her eyes, resting a bit. We kept chatting and listening to the radio. We caught the weather report. It was going to be cold during the night, but sunny and mild tomorrow.

I wonder if that report will hold up!

I chuckled at the thought, my mind going to the times I had visited that city in the last few years.

Sarah broke into my thoughts with, "What's the joke?"

"Huh?"

"You were chuckling at something."

"Oh... I was wondering if the weather report was correct."

"Why shouldn't it be? The weather has been great the whole week."

"Oh, I don't know. Whenever I went there, it always rained, whether it was summer or winter. Bad coincidence, perhaps."

"So you think it's going to rain, despite the weather report."

"That's been my experience."

She gave me a puzzled look. Trying to lighten the atmosphere I said, "Have you ever watched the Pink Panther cartoons?"

Still looking puzzled, she nodded.

"In one episode, a single cloud chases him, raining on him wherever he goes," I offered.

With a soft laugh, she retorted, "So you think you're the Pink Panther?"

"I don't know about that, but that's what popped up in my mind when I was listening to the weather report."

That got her laughing more.

"You're funny, Mitch. You as Pink Panther, and a cloud chasing you, raining over you..."

She started to laugh again, making me smile at the image as well, but that didn't stop my thoughts from going back to the past again.