'Look how you mash up the people dem car!'

Mel Cooke, Gleaner Writer

Twenty years after her sixth or seventh driving lesson, which ended in her first - and only - major car accident, Valerie Turnbull can laugh at the memory of sitting behind the steering wheel of a car at the intersection of Constant Spring and Olivier Roads in St Andrew, her livid instructor in the front passenger's seat.

The lesson had just ended with the slam of the car she was driving into another that was in a line of traffic going in the opposite direction. "He said, 'look how you mash up the people dem car!'," Valerie said, still angry at the memory. "He did not even look to see if I was hurt."

And after the accident, with the exchange of particulars over, the instructor was "telling me to drive and I couldn't. I was trembling".

It seems that the lessons were always in the fast lane towards a disaster, towards what Valerie simply refers to as "the accident". The instructor put her on the road from the first lesson, telling her to press the clutch, brake or gas without explaining what they did and their locations.

'This man just took me on the road and said 'drive'. When he said that, I said, 'how?'," she said.

"I was on the road but I was not ready. I was nervous," she said. So was he, apparently. "I was sorry for the poor man," Valerie said, laughing merrily. At the end of each journey he was tired, frustrated. Is like them throw a pan of water on him."

It was a start and stop affair - literally. "We would be at stoplights and the car would shut off and the light would change five time and I would not move. He would say 'turn the key, press the clutch'. One Sunday a set of people coming from church gathered and started laughing at me. People were driving past and staring. Some of them shouted 'lunatic!'," Valerie said.

And the instructor emphasised "mind you crash, mind you crash".

Sundays were driving days and, on the day of 'the accident', Valerie said, "he had taken me up Constant Spring Road and we were coming back down. Right at Olivier Road, he said, "we are going to take a left turn. He said 'touch the brake'. I am taking my time and touching the brake, no mashing it. I don't know what was going through his mind, but he tried to drag the steering from me, and our hands tangle up and 'blow!'," Valerie said.

To crash was bad. To hit a new vehicle was worse. "It was a nun's brand new car. She had taken it off the wharf two days before," Valerie said. The nun was not driving; someone was on the way to the gas station to fill up. The nun was angry at the instructor, not the learner. "She cuss him! 'It's your fault! You should not let this happen to your student!'," Valerie said.

That did not let her off paying for the repairs, including a new door, the instructor also helping to stand the costs.

It was her last lesson with that instructor and, after a two-year break, Valerie learnt to drive with another person, strict but clear in his instructions, getting her familiar with the vehicle before taking her on the streets.

"I say if I can drive in Jamaica anybody can drive," Valerie said. And she added "I don't think we have the patience with people who are learning."

"Even as a driver, I don't have the patience now."

Not her real name

Did you have an extraordinary experience - good or bad - learning or teaching someone to drive that you would like to share with Automotives? Email melville.cooke@gleanerjm.com.