Driving in the Dark

Learning to drive is a part of growing up and is considered one of the most crucial milestones for teens crossing into adulthood. For me, it was an odd mash of curvy highways that make your stomach attempt to evacuate from your mouth, gravel roads around a lake, and a country road leading to a long, semi-empty asphalt highway outside of my hometown.

All my lessons learning to drive, including the time before I had a permit when my sister let me into the driver seat of her van (and nearly died from fear from my lack of using the breaks), were quite fun. When I think of the funniest little moment when I was driving, it was when my father told my grandmother he would teach me to drive at night.

Now, let me be blunt about something.

My dad wasn't around often when my sister and I were growing up. It was a downside of his job. My dad was (and still is) a truck driver. We grew up understanding that his job meant my older sister and I would go months without a word from him. That's how life was. No more, no less.

Thinking back on it, I'm sure mama (my grandmother) was okay with my dad taking me on the road at night for a quick driving lesson for one reason. He drove a big truck around the country for a living.

He knew how to drive, and he was good at it. He still is, to be honest.

I was a decent driver during the day. And, to be honest, I didn't think driving at night would be difficult. I was young, my eyesight was a lot better than it is today, and I'm generally a calm person.

With mama and my father in agreement, my dad handed me the keys, and we set out. I switched on the headlights and began driving. First were the narrow, gravel roads. It was easy to navigate, and mama taught me to go a bit slower on those. I had to pay attention to our surroundings. When you live in the country, every driver knows you have to watch out for the deer that like to run into the road.

Or stand in the middle of the road, as it sometimes happens.

We did pass a deer or two, a few cows, and many nocturnal reflections that showed up when the headlights met the eyes of the critters. We saw a bat or two on that drive.

It had been smooth sailing. So far. I can't recall if we talked much during this, but I'm sure we did. I'm not a chatty person unless it's with someone I'm close to, like my sister or my mama (God rest her soul) or my sister-friend Darian who learned to drive the following year.

We reached the main road and took a right towards town (left would have led to a State Park). I'm a calm driver, as I've said. Picking up speed is easy, I'm relaxed, and, so far, our car is the only one on the road.

It's pitch black out, the windows are down, and it's an enjoyable experience. It was easy, you know? Not all that difficult, unlike parallel parking.

Then came another car over the rise ahead of us. Suddenly, my dad says, "Turn off the brights, Brit."

I was momentarily surprised because the bright were off.

I said as much, too. My dad wasn't in agreement. He said, stressed in a way only parents get when they think their kid is wrong, "No, you need to turn off the brights."

Now, I'm nineteen at this point. I was annoyed because I knew the brights were off, dad wouldn't believe me, so I chose to show him that the brights were off. Since the headlights had to be manually activated, and the brights were an extra turn of the dial, I 'shut off the brights' as my dad ordered.

That one action had me promptly plunging the car into total darkness.

Another car was heading towards us. The headlights were two bright beacons of light, two miniature suns quickly advancing on us. My dad, however, imminently starts panicking.

"Turn on the lights! Turn on the lights!" He was yelling as he grabbed the door. I kept cruising along, staying on my side of the road.

"You told me to turn them off, dad." I waited a moment in silence before I said that, letting my dad stew in the dark as I cruised us along the road. I waited a few seconds before adding, "So I turned them off."

"The brights! I said turn off the brights!"

It was a moment of personal satisfaction, I'll admit. It had me thinking back to when my sister was teaching me to drive, her voice high and shrill as she yelled, "The breaks! Use the breaks!"

It's odd how two different moments can mirror one another. Both were driving lessons, though the one with my sister was long before the one with my dad. At that moment, like with my dad, I remained calm.

I did turn the lights back on. I may have waited several long moments, more for my amusement than my dad's, but I eventually reached around the steering wheel to switch the dial over.

I kept the headlights on for a moment, then turned the dial one more time so that the bright glare of the bright lights lit up the road. I glanced at my dad as I said, "The brights were off, dad. Now they're on."