I've Never Told this Story to Anyone Before

In Washington, as in most states, you have to complete a driver's ed program before getting your license. Like any other teenager, I longed to get my permit and eventually my driver's license. As soon as I turned 15 my parents enrolled me in Defensive Driving School.

The classes themselves were pretty typical of what you would expect. Once a week though, each of us students would have to go for a practical driving lesson in the student car with the driving instructor, James.

James. The devil. 

When I think of that man I get a pit in my stomach. He was a horrible, mean human being and the very last place he belonged was in a car with two or three terrified 15 year olds who were learning how to navigate a vehicle on the road. 

James was impatient and harsh, and he spoke without a filter. He never had a positive or uplifting remark to give. He was notorious for making students cry; I witnessed it several times, myself. Girls, boys - it didn't matter. He could reduce anyone to tears as they sat behind the wheel, feeling ignorant and stupid. 

I was not immune to his antics, he made me cry many times. To put it simply, I was scared to death of him. The only thing that made those driving trips bearable was the fact that there was always at least one other student in the car, and that other kid and I could exchange sympathetic glances in the rearview mirror.

It's because I had come to rely on having an ally on those trips, that I was horrified the day I showed up for a driving lesson, to find that the other student had canceled. This meant that instead of only having to drive for half an hour, James and I would be driving alone for one whole hour. 

Just us two. 

I envisioned him screaming and insulting me for 60 agonizing minutes, and my mom coming to pick me up afterward and James telling her I was an incompetent driver and a lost cause. I was certain that I would never get my driver's license because of him. 

I didn't know how I would survive that next hour.

As we drove around, I noticed that James seemed somewhat calmer that day. He didn't immediately begin berating me or telling me how horrible of a driver I was. I remained tense though, waiting for an sudden outburst or for him to go off on me at any moment.

About halfway through our hour o' torture, we came to a red light in the left turn lane, so I brought the car to a stop. It was late spring and I was wearing shorts. 

James glanced down at the pedals, and all of the sudden he said:

"Your ankles...remind me of my grandmother's".

Uhm, what the....?

And then. He started. To cry.

Like, full on sobbing in the passenger seat.

I was sitting there thinking, what the hell is happening?

I was torn between my shock that I was witnessing a grown man cry, and the fact that I was completely insulted that he would compare my 15 year old ankles to his grandmother's. 

I didn't even know what that meant. 

Or why he was still crying. 

And OMG what is going on?!

We drove around in awkward silence until that hour finally ended. I was never so happy to see my mom. I would have rather had James yell at me for the whole hour; at least I would have expected that. I was so confused by what had transpired though, and slightly embarrassed, that I couldn't bring myself to tell other people this story. I was worried that whoever I told might agree with James, that I had old lady ankles.

James never acknowledged his crying spell, or explained how my ankles reminded him of his grandmother, or freaking apologized for his psychotic episode!

On my last day driving with him, as he wrote out the final numbers on my score card he said, "Well, you're going to kill yourself or someone else. But you pass."

Okay, Crazy. I had passed! Freaking passed. And I never had to see his stupid face again.

I still have issues with my ankles though. Every time I look at them, I wonder if they really do resemble the ankles of some old woman. I hate that James is still messing with my head 11 years later.

And now you totally want to see my ankles. Admit it.

I'm so glad we can share like this.