Cousin Shannon

Cousin Shannon was my age and we were quite a pair. Then she grew up and moved out of state and now we rarely see each other. But we sure had fun while we were teenagers.

When we were turning sixteen we were so excited about getting our drivers licenses. Shannon was a tad bit older and was out of driver training already. I had barely started taking classes. On the night before her sixteenth birthday she wanted to do a little practice driving and asked me to go riding with her. This was in the early 70s. In case you weren’t around yet, the rules for beginning drivers were a little different from those in place these days.

We had a few weeks of classes, a few weeks of driving with an instructor, and then it was take the test and get the license. We weren’t required to drive so many hours before applying for our license. There was no provisional license. A young driver with a brand new license could even drive a school bus. Scary, isn’t it?

Anyway, Shannon begged me to get in the passenger seat and go joy riding with her so she would know everything the next day. Remember being sixteen? You knew everything, right? Shannon knew just about everything and she wanted it to be perfect on her birthday.

How we got the car keys and escaped the watchful eye of her parents is a little hazy. But we did. And down the road we went. Shannon was smooth. She could play the radio, chew gum, talk with her hands, and drive like a professional all at the same time. We drove around for about an hour and she felt like she would be able to ace her driving test the next day. We were half a block from her house and she made a left turn to go down her street. Yes, she saw the station wagon sitting at the stop sign. No, she didn’t allow enough clearance. Yes, she pulled the bumper right off the station wagon!

Cool Shannon became a puddle of tears and major hysteria. Her parents heard her screams half a block away and came running. They say that penguins can recognize the voices of their offspring among the hordes of other penguin chicks. I guess Shannon’s parents could understand that. Uncle Hank took over the situation and asked the driver to send him the bill and not bother the insurance company about it. Smart guy.

Once we were in the safety of their living room – and why I had to be there is still a mystery to me – Uncle Hank gave Shannon his famous ‘look’. He never spoke much, but when he did, it was weighty. He let Shannon sniffle, snort and get those little hiccups you get when you’ve cried too hard. She went on and on about how the other driver was entirely at fault for being too close to the stop sign. Even I didn’t think that one would hold up in court. When she was finished with her tirade, Uncle Hank spoke.

“Who gave you permission to drive tonight? Who was the licensed driver who was supposed to be riding with you? When would you have realized that you might have injured your little cousin here?” Little cousin? Okay, I was truly grateful that I wasn’t going to share in any of the blame, but I did feel more sophisticated than ‘little cousin’ status.

“I am never going to get behind the wheel of a car again! Never! Never! Never! I will just ride the bus or a taxi or hitch a ride with someone else!” Shannon always had a flare for the dramatic.

Uncle Hank spoke in his deep, quiet voice, “Yes, you will drive again. You and I will go down to the DMV tomorrow and you will get your license. You will not miss a single question on the test and you will drive flawlessly for the poor guy who has to grade you.”

By this time, Shannon had what my mom calls ‘the snubs’ so it was a little hard to understand her next few sentences, but the gist of her little speech was: “Okay, I’ll go, but for the next 100 years you will regret forcing me to get my license.” Or something like that.

Shannon got her license and Uncle Hank made her drive home. After a few days of playing the wounded princess, Shannon forgave the station wagon driver for being stopped incorrectly at the corner and started enjoying the freedom of the open road. Or as much freedom as Uncle Hank would allow. Then Shannon started telling me how to drive. She knew the best way to stop, go, and everything in between. But her specialty was making left turns.

P.S. - Before you go – please check out the Books tab. My family enjoys writing and publishing, so I need to brag a little on my husband, my daughters, and now my granddaughter. Good work, loves!