Sitting on the porch steps of my friend’s house where I lived at the time, I quickly put out my cigarette as Dad pulled up to take me to the meet-up spot. I knew he could smell it on me, but we both pretended I didn’t smoke. We turned into the 7-11 parking lot in town and I hopped out as we said good-bye. It was August, and I was wearing thin, worn button-up with the sleeves rolled up, faded green cargo pants, and as always, sandals and a bandana. I walked up to the occupied SUV with “Student Driver” on the back and introduced myself to the driver.

     Dale was average height with short, balding gray hair and a middle-age belly. His tone was gruff, but jovial. Then I climbed into the back seat with the other, younger, teens until we got to a gas station. There he asked me if I knew how to pump gas and I couldn’t stifle a laugh. I got out and filled it; then he told me it was my turn. I got in the driver’s seat and pulled onto the road. Less than ten minutes later, he looked at me and said, “You already know how to drive, don’t you?”

     “Yeah…” I responded. I’d been the DD for my friends on back roads the previous years.

     “Well how about this? After class, come with me to my office and I’ll sign your paper. No need for you to be here if you don’t need it.”

     “Wow,” I said. “That would be awesome! Thank you!”

     By the time we got to another 7-11, he’d told me to come back tomorrow anyway to hang out, since I didn’t have a job. Throughout the day, he told me stories about his granddaughter and complained about indigestion from his wife’s potato salad; he was sure she’d done it on purpose. I told him about the classic rock bands I listened to and ridiculous stories I had. He completely ignored the other kids and would complain about them when they weren’t there. At lunch time, he and I stopped by his office so he could grab some things.

     “Hey, you’ll be lookin’ for a job when you get your license, right?” he asked.

     “Well yeah, that’s what’s stopped me from getting one before now,” I told him.

     “Want to be a secretary here for my partner and me?”

     “Are you kidding? That would be sweet!” I replied.

     “All right, you got it,” he concluded.

     We got back on the road and he continued to complain about his indigestion and curse his wife. He asked me to drive back to the office when we were done so he could meet his daughter there to take him to the hospital, just to be safe, and of course I said yes. But as we got to the last kid’s house, he exclaimed, “Oh yeah! I forgot how much I hate this kid. Change of plans; I’m going to have him drive to your house and back so I don’t have to deal with him for too long.” He then asked, “Do you drink beer? I’m buying us a six-pack tomorrow after class.”

     As soon as I’d said goodbye and gotten out of the vehicle, I went inside and told my friend, her family, and my friends over the phone all about my day. I’d gotten a license, a job, and and awesome new friend in less than eight hours. I was looking forward to tomorrow and everything after it.

     I got up at seven the next morning and got ready. Afterward, I called my Dad to remind him to pick me up again. After a couple rings, he answered, “Hello?”

     “Hey Dad, are you still coming to get me for behind-the-wheel?” I asked.

     “What?” he sounded confused. “Didn’t anybody tell you?”

     “Tell me what?” I asked.

     “Jacki, Dale’s dead. He had a heart attack on the way back to town and flipped his car. I’m so sorry no one told you.”

     That day and night, my friend Kara and I drank at the house. By sunset, I was pulling her into the mud in her all-white outfit and her father greeted us at the door, armed with a sprayer. We drank. I cried. We laughed. Then it hit me. I realized I had lucked out. We’d never fought and I’d always remember him. We’d had a beautiful friendship, even it it was only for a handful of hours. I took a deep breath and yielded to a peaceful sleep.