Many seniors bump up against a sad reality. In this memoir piece, Thunder Bay writer and poet, Margaret Cummingham, who now lives in Ottawa, writes honestly and fearlessly about her own experience. Posted with permission of the author.

Horror, Devastation and Despair

by Margaret Rose Cunningham

Plus so many more emotions. I was overwhelmed. Had I lost my best friend; had I lost a child; was I diagnosed with terminal cancer? No, I had lost my driver’s licence!

My first thought was to take lessons. My first instructor was a gentleman who fancied himself and who yelled at me if I made a mistake. I think I had gone through a stop sign. I must admit this was no small mistake. He seemed overly curious about my house and my situation. He peppered me with questions such as who mows your lawn? Who looks after your cars? Who shovels the snow? And then comments, “You have a nice house.” I did not take kindly to these comments. Needless to say, I failed my first test.

My second instructor was a kind and gentle soul who recommended that I go to Winchester to try the test. I didn’t. I failed. My next instructor was a neighbour and a friend who had taught drivers’ Ed in a high school. We went out twice a week for four weeks. The lessons lasted two hours with a break for coffee at Tim Horton’s.

At this point my hands started to give out. I had been gripping the steering wheel too tightly. They would be numb at the end of the lesson. I was later to learn this was the beginning of a carpal tunnel problem.

From time to time, this gentleman couldn’t help yelling at me also, as in “turn your freaking head.” True enough, I hadn’t and nearly had an accident. This was considered “dangerous driving.” My instructor mentioned that it might be time I gave up. Well, I couldn’t do that.

I did try again at Walkley Road Licensing Bureau and failed this time as I went through an amber light. It had turned amber just before I entered the intersection. I might not have taken any more lessons but a friend recommended another instructor who had helped a friend. He was rather a strange little man who always arrived at the house needing the washroom. I was cooking soup so he wondered if he could have some. I gave him a container full. Every time I made a mistake driving he would tell me it was an automatic failure. He was 60 and single. He was looking for a “chick.” I spent some time counseling him on where he might find a “lady.”

My last instructor was very interesting as well. He charged $67.00 an hour while the others had charged $40 to $45 an hour. When I questioned him about this, he said, “You get what you pay for.” Okay, I thought, perhaps this time I might pass. After four weeks, twice a week, I realized that during the last couple of lessons, he hadn’t been very encouraging. When I queried this, he suggested that I take more lessons. I should treat myself and not worry about leaving my money to my  children. I turned to him and said, “You think I should give it to you?”

My next scheduled appointment was in Arnprior. Not surprisingly I failed there as well. This time I went through an intersection at the bottom of a hill. There was a road running parallel to the one I was on. Another car was driving down it on my right. I failed to give it the right of way.

This instructor was different. When I asked him if I should try again, he replied “you were not the only one to make a mistake on that hill.”

I took this as encouragement and booked another test on October 10^th.

postscript. 

Sadly Margaret Rose failed this test too. She now has given up driving.