Driving on the GW (George Washington Bridge) saw Kansas plates on a flatbed headed into the city. I was ready to yell out the window. "Hey, You're headin' the wrong way, Bud. You don't want to get stuck in this place." My mind started drifting back to when how I learned how to drive stick. I was seventeen, and working for an engineering firm. The company car was a beat up blue pickup with dried mud everywhere except maybe the roof and she was mine to drive for the summer. Aaron, one of the engineers, spent an afternoon in a parking lot with me. Quite a sight... I might have been old enough to drive, but I sure didn't look it, and his suit, beard, and yarmulke made him just a little conspicuous too. The double takes when I got out of the truck were great, and made me smile and laugh which usually resulted in the same coming from the people who were gawking.
Going out to the sites... driving the truck, wearing jeans with the window open and music blaring wasn't what I considered work, but they still paid me even after I totalled the boss's car. I just stood at the side of the road wondering how they were going to fire me. Instead the boss comforted me with stories of how many cars he totalled when he was a teenager and sent me out in the truck the next day to get some plans I knew he already had.
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