Memories.

Stopped at a red light, waiting to turn right.

I look to my left.

No traffic coming. I turn. And all I can think of is my driver’s ed teacher.

Whose name I cannot even recall, saying, that if I ever was to make a right hand turn and go into the left lane, I would automatically fail my test.

It was the one and only critique he gave me the entire two months of afternoon driving and navigating in the suburbs of D.C. And I’m sure I have Brother to thank for that, since he taught me how to illegally drive at 15. I was already well versed behind the wheel, with a calmness that no one else seemed to possess in my family.

I actually felt slightly offended, till I realized I couldn’t really deem it a critique, as I had stuck to the right lane. Instead, it was his way of trying to warn me without saying in that thick Indian accent:

Don’t do anything stupid that you might forget to think about.

If only I could remember who the heck he was, I’d contact him to thank him, to tell him that it’s only now I see how prolific that lane turn advice was.

Isn’t it funny, the memories that come to us at certain points?

 

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