My first car was a Volkswagen bug. I purchased it from a friend “as is” for $30. I was 17 and had just obtained my drivers learning permit. At the time I was living in Vermont, attending high school and working the 3:00-11:00pm shift at the in-patient mental health facility.

I remember one of those hair-raising situations I managed to get myself into while I still held the invincible mindset of youth.  It was the dead of winter, and I had accepted an invitation to spend the night at a girlfriend's big country farmhouse because I was thinking of becoming roommates with the four girls that lived there.

My friend Carole and I planned to drive out after work that night. The house was in a remote town 20 miles away. We had never been there before but we had directions. When we left work it was snowing heavily and the road conditions were perilous. I was an inexperienced driver and not familiar with a stick shift but my friend Carole was there to teach me.

As we headed out of town a police officer pulled as over. When I stepped from the car my knees were shaking so hard, they could barely hold me up. I thought I was in big trouble for driving with only a learner’s permit. However, the officer was only concerned with our safety. He noticed my headlights were dim and asked if we needed any help. We failed to heed his cautionary warning but thanked him and continued on our way.

The country roads were engulfed in darkness. The house was high up on a mountain top. We reached our destination sometime well after midnight. As I attempted to park, I hit a snowbank and the car was stuck. We decided to go in the house and deal with it by the light of day.

The next morning was bright, sunny and affirming. The snow, pristine beneath a clear azure sky and the air crisp. We tried to free the car from the bank but the wheels just spun around. To our surprise two  guys who happened to drive by stopped to offer assistance. They pushed my car free and with grateful ovations we bid them farewell.

We started down the mountain. All was well until the breaks went out. “Carole, I cried out in a panic, “what should I do?” Carole yelled excitedly, “Shift the gear to neutral!” I did as instructed but the car only gained increasing momentum. Like Mr. Toad's wild ride, we whipped around the winding mountain faster and faster. I gripped the steering wheel, knowing that with one wrong move we would plummet to our demise. As we hung on for dear life, I took each turn with a newly found precision.

Miraculously, we made it all the way down. The road ahead was flat and straight. Just when we thought we were safe, we hit a patch of black ice and the car spun around 360 degrees, went backwards down an embankment and into a shallow creek. As the car abruptly landed, Carole and I hugged each other and laughed with the realization of our close call.  We thanked God, thrilled to be alive!

A few minutes later a passing car stopped and I could not believe my eyes. It was the same guys who had helped us out of the snowbank just minutes earlier. They looked at our predicament and shook their heads, laughing, “Oh no, not this time!” and drove off.

We never set foot in that car again but managed to find it rest at the junk yard. As I look back, I wonder how I could have been so foolish to take such risks. Yet, since I am still here to tell, it is one of those funny stories I like to tell from time to time.

This story may stir up a few memories of your own. Reminiscing is a powerful way to affirm our life experiences. Caregivers understand the immense value of listening to stories and how this mutual sharing can enrich our lives.

By the way, did I ever tell you about the time I drove to Guatemala? 

Liz Sorensen Wessel

Photo: Liz sorensen;  age 17