Wingo

So at this point my parents and Ryan have left, and it’s sinking in that I’m actually staying here for longer than a vacation. And I have to learn how to drive a stick. Not only are the roads here about 5 feet wide, but I have to drive through several long traffic lights on my regular route through town, inching my way along in first gear. Here’s my new ride:

Its name is Wingo (given by the kids), an Alfa Romeo, and it hates me. But if I didn’t learn how to drive this thing, I would have to drive their huge Suburban. I would literally be taking up about ¾ of the road with that one.

Sarah gave me a trial run when we went over to the Bryant’s for dinner one night, and I think I killed the car about five times before I even got out of the driveway. I never knew a car could be that jerky, and I grew up with Mom driving sticks throughout my entire childhood. But that night was the last chance I had to get it right before I took the 5 yr old to school in the morning.

VP’s school is up against a mountain, and the only entrances to the parking lot are literally big enough to fit one car. So here I come jerking my way along and see a car ahead of me. I freak out and kill the car. VP has started making a “dush dush dush” noise every time this happens, and it just adds to the fun :). Then the parking lot is all gravel. Since I haven’t learned how to slowly let off the clutch before I jam on the gas I peel out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel behind me like I just started a drag race. It was like a scene out of The Fast and the Furious, except not that cool (I guess I’m not sure if you’d call that cool, but whatever).

Then that afternoon when I pick him up I take the “twisty turny” way home and end up at this stop light where there’s construction going on. And AGAIN the road only fits about a car and a half and it’s in between two large buildings. Another little known fact about driving in Italy - at the majority of stoplights around here you have to stop abnormally far away from the light. I didn’t know this, so I snaked my way between the construction and edged right up to the intersection. The guys working construction looked at me like I was crazy, and then the look turned to terror when I started the car back up again in first gear. Damnit.

You’d think I would have had enough by then, but I continue to embarrass myself all week. I drive up to post and go through security. This is where a soldier has to walk up to your car to check your ID card, and then you have to maneuver through the gates. Every single time I go through I nearly run someone over. I usually see one or two of them make that "ooh" face that happens after someone's been punched really hard or falls down. It just sounds painful.

Carl actually met me at the front gate the first time to get my ID worked out, and then had mercy on me and drove the car through post. Once we get to his office he stops the car, pulls the emergency brake and we go inside. Then as I come out and get in I start up the car and try to put it into first gear…it just gurgles and stops. I try again, it does the same thing. I’m literally almost in tears thinking, “Did I break the car?!” “Did it run out of gas and this is the way it tells me?!” A soldier walks over to me after a few minutes of me cursing out loud and asks if I need help. I finally give up and let him get in and try to start the car. He looks down, lowers the emergency brake and looks up at me and says, “I think that’s your problem, miss.”

With the amount of driving I’ve had to do over the last month, between taking the kids around and traveling, I’ve slowly learned how to not give myself never-ending whiplash. I think Wingo is actually responding better to me, too. It’s like he gives me back certain privileges every time I do something good. I slowly move into first gear, he gives me my left stereo speaker back. I shift at the right time, he doesn’t choke my seatbelt on the highway. We’re slowly working out our issues and I’m not having to take several Tylenol a day! I still don’t think I’ll ever understand why anyone would want to put that much work into driving...