My Harrowing Journey to Getting a License : Part Two

When last we checked in with our protagonist he had just been ushered into the depths of an old decrepit estate that time had forgotten.  Lost with only the sole guidance of his creepily mysterious driving instructor they were now in a garage with no escape in sight.  Our story continues….

As I slowly opened the door and made my way from the car, my last bastion of safety, a lowly creek echoed from the shadows.  The sharp hallow sound made its way closer and closer until it was just beyond the other side of the rust framed door.  As the door knob twisted, my anxiety began to bubble over with fear and desperation.  I palmed the keys I had in my pocket, having the tips poke out between my knuckles as a make shift weapon for whatever beast lay beyond the threshold.  The door slowly swung open producing a 80 year old women in her full house dress splendor, being propped up by a four pronged cane that squeaked with every stride.  I would come to find out that this was Nancy’s , my driving instructor, aunt.  We were there to pick up an old mattress that Nancy had been storing there for some time.  Making our way through a hoarders haven of old newspaper clippings and sherbet containers filled with countless knickknacks and acorns, we finally were able to find the mattress trapped between the old fashioned boiler and a nordic tract that had lost its usefulness many moons ago.  Using all the gusto we could scrounge up in this kingdom of daddy long legs, the mattress was pried from the junk that had amassed in decades of decay.

With the mattress then strapped firmly to the small four door sedan, we bid farewell to the old maiden of the house, after countless refusals to go upstairs for some Yoohoo.  Making our way back onto the open road and away from what I thought would be my den of torture, I was instructed to make a course back to our home town.  Slight problem was that I had no recollection of where we were.  So after a few wrong turns and a scolding by my instructor, I was put on a turn by turn need to know information status.  As things stated to become more familiar I asked if we off to pick up the next student who was due for some instructional training.  Nancy replied that there was no one signed up after me and that I was lucky because she normally isn’t allowed to permit students to have back to back driving lessons but for me she would make an exception.  Boy how lucky was I.

After a few more directions we pulled down one of the more shady streets on the sketchy side of town and down behind a string of apartments.  Pulling into one of the vacant parking spots I put the car in park and Nancy turned it off and removed the keys from the ignition.  She told me that now all we had to do was bring the bed into her new apt.  This seemed simple enough to me, after all I had already lived through picking it up from Hansel and Gretel’s house, what could be challenging about dropping it off.  Down from the roof of the car we pulled the mattress, through a back door and up half a flight of steps to the first door on the landing.  Fumbling with the keys Nancy finally was able to open the door and I slid the mattress inside a sparsely filled studio apt.  Wood paneling adorned a majority of the room and the humming refrigerator looked like the only appliance made after 1978.  Plopping down the mattress in the middle of the room, what seemed like its logical destination, I was shocked to hear the clicking on the dead bolt behind me.  OK, now this was truly the time to panic.  I sheepishly asked if that’s it and she instructed me that I had done her a huge solid and been such a great help.  Having seen my fair share of horror films, I could only imagine if I would ever be heard from again.  Somehow I had to escape from this room and thank god my brain kicked on at the right time.  I nervously fumbled in my pocket and grabbed my phone pretending it had just been vibrating with a call.  Thrusting the phone to my ear I started talking, “Hi, mom ya we are almost done I should be home in about twenty minutes.  Ya everything is going fine the lesson is about over…..OK see you soon.”.  Thankfully she bought my phony phone call and out we went back to the car and to my house, blanketed in a deafening silence that while awkward kept me safe from whatever may have lain waste to me in that room.

That was the last driving lesson or class I took with that instructor, and was lucky enough to finish out all my hours intentionally murder free in the next week.  Shortly after I went through this ordeal the driving school was sued and closed down and now only lays shrouded in disgrace and shame from the students who had to pass through its halls of horror.  But hey I got my license about a month later after another Homer-esque journey, but that I shall leave for another day.


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