Who We Are

After failing my written Learner's Permit test, sadly, three times I was finally granted an official driver's license. I was not over the moon or patting myself on the back for reaching any sort of finish line. I was much higher on the eye roll vibe than any sort of grateful attitude for meeting this moment. My Father is an over-the-road truck driver at this time; I had been driving their stick shift Honda Accord since I was eight. Learning to navigate this said stick shift started as many others had done, on a dirt road in Dover, Oklahoma. On the North side of Route One my Grandma Ruth's house had played host to many before me, cutting their teeth driving, while at the same time waving "Hi" to fellow country dwellers as paths crossed. My understanding of myself then, much as it is now, is tough. I did not give much attention to the Permit test, as I had been driving for years. Only nervous as I backed out of her driveway, as it was bookended with two ditches, and...