Driving Goal

In the good old days, drivers with learner permits were a hazard for those on the tree-lined streets of Bangalore. Marilyn, the sultry love of George and Michael’s life discovers this inconvenient truth when Astrid finally takes the steering wheel in her hands.

It was a quiet, balmy day with the sun politely signaling its intention to warm things up a bit once the clouds parted company and the breeze sauntered off, when the lovely Astrid Jones walked into the front office of Michael Mathias’ world famous Bangalore Driving School.

“I want to learn to drive a car,” she declared in her usual, roundabout manner.

“Mad or what?” was George’s pithy response when a moonstruck Michael casually mentioned he had enrolled Astrid Jones in his driving school. Everyone knew Astrid was beautiful but unteachable. Her shapely legs and slender arms were not meant for deft steering control and timely gear changes. And then there was the small matter of focus, of which Astrid was known to have none. Her gorgeous eyes fluttered as much as her mind wandered and no one had ever managed to keep her on track on any topic for more than two sentences.

George D’Souza and Michael Mathias had been friends forever, ever since George saved Michael from a thrashing in Mr. Gomes’ social studies class. They played together, bunked classes together, tied tomato soup tins to the tails of unsuspecting stray dogs together, rode ticketless on the bus together, went to the movies together, and now, after forty years, still played carrom together every evening.

When George went out to deliver a special order from his stationery store, Michael was there to make sure no customer went unserved. When Michael was out initiating a novice into the fine art of gear and clutch coordination, George greeted every aspiring student driver who walked into the driving school office.

And then there was Marilyn, the sultry love of their life. Always happy to see them, always ready to jump into their arms. Both of them doted on her, they adored her every look, the coy, the pouty, the happy. They especially loved it when she ran up to them wagging her tail in sync with her high-pitched, excited bark.

The deed, however, was done and Astrid Jones, officially a Bangalore Driving School student in training, showed up bright and chirpy at the appointed hour the next day. “I’m here!” she announced cheerfully and much too loudly for Marilyn’s comfort. And then her sharp high heels dug into Marilyn’s tail as she stepped all over Marilyn’s favorite blanket.

Always one to return favors, Marilyn waited for an unguarded moment to snatch Astrid’s elegant leather handbag, shake it like a rat, scatter its contents, and saunter off, her yellow fur and black spots reflecting a shimmering halo in the dappled sunlight filtering through the window.

An embarrassed and deeply apologetic Michael Mathias eagerly escorted a distraught, weeping Astrid Jones home in his ‘36 Hillman.

The next six driving lessons were largely eventful with Astrid Jones squealing with delight on the rare occasions she managed to change gears without them making that awful grinding noise. Over time her ability to coordinate clutch release with accelerator squeeze improved enough for the engine to not stall, much to the consternation of the neighborhood horses, jutka owners, rickshaws, and hapless pedestrians. No one got hit by a lurching automobile if they managed to jump off the street while Astrid held the steering wheel carefully so as not to ruin her nail polish.

George D’Souza watched from his store as his friend Michael struggled through each Astrid Jones driving session. The wear and tear on his thinning hair with its liberal daily dose of Gilbert’s Colorfast Color became more and more evident, and the dents, scratches, broken bulbs, missing mirrors, and dangling mudguards multiplied like rabbits with the problem afflicting not just the ‘36 Hillman but also the ‘43 Austin and the ‘45 Morris.

“I told you, men,” the phlegmatic George burst out one day as he stared in horror at the ripped canvas top, which had suddenly met an errant nail hanging on for dear life on a nearby electric pole. “Don’t tell me I didn’t tell you,” he said before trailing off into speechless awe at the destructive power of an Astrid-Jones-guided 36 BHP automobile. Somehow, he was certain, even the laws of Physics were being broken with the generation of destructive force much greater than 33,000 feet per pound per minute per horsepower.

By the seventh lesson even the devoted, saintly patience of Michael Mathias began to hover at the brink of a seven-year itch in his teacher-student relationship with Astrid Jones. Marilyn’s passive-aggressive pouting each time Astrid showed up made matters worse. Her alluring, excited high-pitched bark had begun to resemble a sinister, deep-throated growl.

On the night of the 14th of August, after being soundly thrashed four carrom games in a row by George, Michael called it a day. Just like the rest of the nation he was looking forward to tomorrow when he would celebrate his independence from Astrid Jones who had finally managed to grasp not just the steering of a vehicle but also making it move forward without too many lurches and mishaps.

Displaying great foresight and distrust, George requisitioned the services of an unsuspecting traffic constable to keep back the dwindling gaggle of curious onlookers who had yet to be subjected to the trauma of an Astrid Jones drive-by.

“Now remember,” Michael intoned in his best instructor voice, “keep your eyes on the road. Pick out something in front of you and drive to your goal.” he said as Astrid Jones started the car.

Just then Marilyn decided to upstage the proceedings by sauntering across in slow motion, sashaying provocatively in front of the purring automobile. A gleam sprang up in Astrid’s eyes. Her foot eased in the clutch elegantly, her manicured hand slid the gear soundlessly, and her right foot stepped on the accelerator. The car surged forward in one smooth, deadly fast motion. Marilyn yelped and took off down the street with the lovely Astrid Jones in hot pursuit.