THE ARCHIVES: Chapter 56

Steering Wheel

The driver’s ed teacher
is an old man with silver hair
and a wart on his nose.
His hands shook as he held the wheel
and took me to a deserted parking lot
to practice.
When we switched positions and I slid
behind the steering wheel, I was intimidated by it.
I adjusted the seat as high as possible,
so if I wrecked the car,
my nose wouldn’t slam against the wheel.
“Put your hands at the ten and two,” said my teacher,
and I had no idea what he just said.
We learned none of this in the classroom.
Absolutely nothing.

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