Driving Lessons

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The girl looked sixteen and blonde, and the man looked thirty-two and dazed. The responding blues were questioning the girl and trying to question the man who’d been in the vehicle. They weren’t expecting much from the man, not in his condition.

They thought at first he was drunk even though he didn’t smell of alcohol. The girl was cold sober. Hysterical because she’d just run somebody over, but cold sober nonetheless. She was the one who’d been driving the car.

‘What’s your name, miss?’ one of the blues asked.

‘Rebecca Patton. Is she all right?’

‘May I see your license, please?’

‘I don’t have a license. I’m just learning to drive. I have a learner’s permit. Is the woman all right?’

‘May I see the permit, please?’

The officer should have known, but didn’t, that in this state, within many sections of the Vehicle and Traffic Law, a learner’s permit was deemed a license to drive. All he knew was that here was a sobbing sixteen-year-old kid who’d just run over a woman who looked like she was maybe twenty-eight, twenty-nine years old.

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