Chapter 27

Cora

Just outside of Binghamton, I said, “You’re tall enough. Wanna learn to drive?”

“If you’re going to teach me? No.”

“Gee, thanks Chuck.”

“You’re welcome, mom.”

“No, I was thinking about driving school. I’ve heard of defensive driving and there’s several places that teach it.”

“Are you going to learn too?”

“Why? I drive just fine,” I said.

“I was thinking if you took the school, too, I wouldn’t drive better than you,” he said. “Although ... it wouldn’t take much.”

“What?”

“Mom ... when there’s four people in the car ... do you look at the ones in the backseat when you talk to them?”

“It’s the polite thing to do,” I said. “You’re supposed to look at the people you talk to.”

“It’s extremely impolite to put their lives in danger ... and you do it all the time.”

“I do not, Charles William,” I said. “Oh ... look at the pretty horses.”

The rumble strips in the asphalt went rumble rumble. I corrected. “I wish they wouldn’t put those there ... it’s very distracting.”

“No doubt about it ... I need a Jesus bar,” Chuck said. “I read in Popular Mechanics about California designing the rumble strips to sound like ‘Watch it Watch it Watch it.’”

“That sounds like something California would do.”

“Tell you what, mom ... I’ll do it if you take a test drive with a safety instructor.”

“I don’t need it ... but I will if it will make you happy.”

Chuck relaxed.

I will say one thing for the Southern Tier Expressway ... it’s scenic. Hilly, twisty, curvy; surrounded by plenty of green and little picturesque farms and villages.

“I’ll bet this place is really pretty in the Fall,” Rumble rumble rumble. I jerked the wheel back to the road.

“Stop looking around, mom. Watch where you’re driving.”

I was getting frustrated ... I wanted to SEE ... Chuck was NO fun.

By the time we got to Horseheads I was starved and I needed to pee ... gasoline would be good, too.

“There’s a Shell Travelers Center, mom.” Chuck said.

Shell is good. This one had several free pumps. The Roller was only 60 horsepower and ran just fine on pump gas. They had attendants. I told the teenager to fill it and check the works. Jeans and a Tee don’t mix with Rolls Royce ... but then ... I was driving myself.

I went inside for the facilities. Chuck was headed for the Men’s. I spotted the Women’s and headed there. No line ... thank god.

When I was through, I stopped in the lobby. Chuck was looking at the Brochure Rack. He fished several out and pocketed them. The attendant was checking the tires. Another one was chest deep in the engine bay. The kid at the tires waved a hand. The older fella stepped out and said something. He walked out to my car and looked. Shaking his head, he walked back in.

“Who owns the Royce?”

I raised my hand.

“You have a flat.”

I looked ... Yup ... a flat ... and new tires ... thanks for Road Hazard Insurance.

“We can fix it or replace it,” the older guy said.

I fumbled around in my purse and presented him with the Continental Tire Warrantee.