Chapter Twenty-Nine
Point of View: Nick
Zoe Sinclaire showed up at my house bright and early the next morning. It was like eight o'clock. I'm not a morning person, and I'd been up since six drinking coffee to be awake for this stupid hour of driving. I was irritated at the hour and the fact that I had to drive with her at all. But 8:00 AM had been the only time space she had available to drive with me, she'd said, because she had students lined up all day after that.
"Well you're a tub of smiles aren't you?" she asked when I opened the door with a grunt and stepped out into the walkway.
"I'm not a morning person," I grumbled. I walked quickly to the driveway, fully aware that she wasn't keeping up as she hobbled after me on her crutches. Is it even legal for her to be a driver's ed teacher? I wondered bitterly, How can she drive when she can barely walk?
Arriving to the driveway, I hit the garage door opener on my key ring. The garage slowly slid open, revealing my bright red Camaro inside. I started towards it. She stopped by her Prius and watched me as I went into the garage and clicked the car's unlock button. I stopped by the car. I turned around to look at her. She wasn't getting anything out of the Prius. "Well?" I asked, waiting.
"Well?" she asked, also waiting.
"Aren't we driving?" I asked, gesturing toward my car.
"Yes," she said, gesturing toward her car.
My eyes traveled from her to the Prius and back again. "I hope you're fucking kidding me," I said.
Zoe raised her eyebrow, "First of all, watch your language, please. Second, Nick, seeing as I know you are not a good driver, can you seriously be expecting me to ride with you in a vehicle that doesn't have my instructor's brake?"
"I am so not driving a Prius," I stated flatly.
"And why, exactly, is that?" she snapped.
"Because!" I shouted, "The only thing that car has going for it is that it isn't blue and it doesn't have a three pound chihuahua dog in it!"
Zoe looked surprised by the sentence. "Um... what?"
"C'mon... Jeff Dunham?" I said. I grabbed an imaginary stick shift in the air beside me and pretended to be shifting up, "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm gayyyyyy, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm gayyyyyy!" I quoted. "We're taking the Camaro, at least I'll have my balls in this car."
Zoe shrugged, "Well, enjoy your time with your balls, because you ain't driving anywhere in it." She went and got into the passenger side of the Prius and slammed the door, staring at me through the windshield. I stood by the Camaro. We both waited for the other to cave.
"Fucking A," I grumbled, slamming the Camaro's door. I stepped out of the garage and made my way to the Prius, hitting the garage door button again as I walked. I opened the driver's side door of the Prius and looked down at the seat, where she'd pulled it up as far as it would go. "I don't think I'm even going to fit into this fucking can," I grouched.
"If you're going to keep talking like a hoodlum," she said calmly, "Then you can get a bicycle."
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, really wanting to punch the crap out of something. Like the Prius.
"How the he--heck do I push the seat back?" I demanded, gritting my teeth.
"There's a lever under the seat," she explained, looking down at a clipboard in her hands. "You have to sit down to do it, though."
"Of course."
I climbed into the car daintily, my head hitting the ceiling and my legs bunched up under the wheel. I was so close that my junk was rubbing on the bottom of the steering wheel. I scrunched up in a truly awkward position, practically humping the steering column, and reached under the seat for the lever and pulled it. The seat slid back as far as it would go and my legs were still a little cramped. "You've got to be fucking with me," I muttered.
Zoe looked at me, exasperated.
"Kidding with me," I said, frustrated, "Jeez, I'm sorry, okay?"
"Okay." She paused and watched as I slammed the door and looked around for the key.
"It's keyless," she said.
"It's what?" I asked.
"Keyless," she held up a clicker on a chain she had around her neck. "It can sense the owner's in the vehicle and will start with that power button there on the dashboard as long as this," she held up the clicker on the chain, "Is in the vehicle."
"It has a power button?" I looked at the dashboard. Low and behold. "Holy shh----oot."
Zoe nodded. "Thank you." She looked at her clipboard. "Don't forget the outside check, please."
"The what?"
"Check the outside of the vehicle for scrapes, bangs, dents, and other damages that you didn't inflict upon it. Also, make sure all four tires are properly inflated," Zoe said.
I blinked at her, "Seriously?"
"Do you want to get your license?" she asked pointedly.
"Fine." I flung the car door opened and got out and walked around the car once, barely looking at it, and got back into the car and slammed the door.
Zoe made a note on her clipboard. "Did you note anything?" she asked.
"Looks good to me," I muttered.
"Okay, so the back bumper was in perfect condition? There was nothing wrong with the left rear wheel rim?"
"I - uh..."
"Because if not, you should be aware now that any damages you don't note before we start will be your responsibility to repair."
"Fucking A," I climbed back out of the car, barely hearing her reprimand for the curse word, and walked to the back bumper and looked at it. It was banged in. Evidently someone had a fender-bender in it. I grumbled and went to the left rear wheel. The hubcap was missing completely and the rim was dented a little - probably the work of someone hitting the curb. I walked back to the driver door and got in. "The bumper's busted and the rim's dented. Plus you're missing a hubcap."
"Okay, damaged noted," she mumbled, writing down what I said about the damages on the clipboard. She smiled serenely, "Now what?"
I hit the power button.
Zoe promptly reached over and hit it again, turning the car back off. "Wrong."
I stared at the wheel, feeling my blood pressure rising. "What am I supposed to do, then?" I hissed.
"Well, considering you've pushed the seat back into East Osh Kosh, I'm assuming you'll need to adjust the mirrors and the height of the steering wheel column as well," Zoe said, "Unless you aren't found of being able to have full vision and the ability to turn the wheel from eight and four?"
"Eight and four?" I asked, "I thought it was ten and two?"
Zoe smiled, "It used to be. It's been changed to eight and four."
"Why the fuck would they have you put your hands at eight and four?" I demanded, eyebrows practically jumping off my head as I put my hands on the designated spots. She was right, the column was too low for this position. My hands were bumping against my crotch like I was Eminem. "How do you adjust this shit?" I asked.
Zoe raised an eyebrow.
"How do I adjust the steering wheel column?" I rephrased the question.
"There's a lever on the left."
I reached for it and adjusted it. "Why did they change that? This is uncomfortable," I said, again testing the wheel position on for size.
"Well," Zoe said slowly, "Put your hands at ten and two for a second," she said. I did. "Now," she said, "If your airbag deployed, where would your hands go?"
I looked at my arms, "Uh.. up?"
"No," she said, "They would do one of two things. They would come back this way," she demonstrated, holding her own arms up in an awkward way over her head, "And at a high velocity that would most likely disconnect your shoulder from it's socket. Or, they would go this way," she held her arms up across her face, hand to her nose, "And that would most likely send your nose cartilage through your brain." She smiled. "That's why they changed it. So that you don't spear your brain with your nose bone."
"Nice. Thanks for the visual." I dropped my hands to eight and four.
"No problem," she replied dryly. "Now, mirrors."
I reached for the rearview mirror and adjusted it appropriately, and used a little button on the door panel to adjust the two side mirrors. I reached for the power button and turned the car on.
Zoe reached over and turned the car off.
"NOW what?" I cried, exasperated.
"Are you wearing a seat belt?" she asked.
I sighed, "No." I reached for the belt and yanked it across my chest and shoved it into the buckle. "This is stupid," I said, "It chokes me."
"It keeps you alive in an accident," she stated flatly.
"I lived through my accident," I pointed out, "I didn't have a seatbelt on."
"You," she said, "Were the exception."
I shook my head, "This is so stupid, this whole thing." I reached for a third time for the power button, but my hand hadn't even left it before she was reaching for it. "NOW WHAT?" I yelled, truly pissed.
"Am I wearing a seatbelt?"
"Jesus H. Christ, how the fuck am I supposed to know? You're the God-damned instructor, you should fucking know to put on a belt if you're going to wear a belt, why the fuck do I gotta know if you got a belt on or not!??" I blew up.
Zoe stared at me. "You can get out of the car now," she said evenly.
I blinked at her, "What?"
"I said get out of the car."
"Um, why?" I asked, confused.
"Your drive is over for today."
I looked at the clock. It was only 8:14. "I'm pretty sure you said I was driving until 9," I said.
"And I'm using my authority as your instructor to cancel this drive," Zoe answered. She opened her passenger door and stuck her crutches out, pulling herself up with the handle over the door with a groan. I sat there in disbelief, staring at her, as she struggled to her feet.
"What the hell do you mean cancel the drive?" I demanded when she was finally up.
She didn't answer. Instead, she came around the car after slamming the passenger door in my face. I watched her walk around the car. She got to the driver's side, opened my door and made a thumb signal. "Get out."
I unbuckled the seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "Why the hell are you canceling the drive?" I asked.
"Because I asked you repeatedly to watch your language," she replied, "And you continued cursing. I'm not listening to you swear for an hour. I will see you tomorrow morning." She climbed into the front seat of the Prius and pulled the door shut.
I watched, dumbfounded, as she adjusted the seat, mirrors and steering column back to where they'd been before. She buckled the seatbelt around herself and reached for the power button. The car made its pitiful little start up noise that a gnat could've drowned out, and drove away.
I stared after her long after she'd pulled out of the driveway.
What a fucking bitch.
Chapter End Notes:
Part of the Jeff Dunham skit referenced in this chapter can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQcSOP2AzXU ... This is easily one of the funniest damn things ever, although this isn't the whole version. In one version, he talked about accelerating the car after his conversation with his wife and swearing that the engine is going "IIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm gayyyy.... IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm gayyyyyy" .... which is actually the part Nick was talking about, of course, but ... this will give you the idea of the skit. Plus, I'm pretty sure Nick would agree with the bit about the chihuahua. ;)
