The day that I borrowed her Buick from Myrt
I had some tough luck, but I didn't get
hurt . . .
Though I might have got into a rather bad
jam
If I'd not been the wonderful driver I am.
First of all: Myrt's garage wa a pretty tight fit,
And in backing, I bent the car's fender a
bit.
Next, turning a corner a little mite wide,
I saw that my car was about to collide
With a far bigger car, so I slammed on the
brake--
Which proves I'm resourceful and smart and
awake.
The other car's driver, becoming unnerved,
Blew out a rear tire as he slithered and
swerved.
But in spite of his adjectives, temper, and
noise,
I straightened my hat with my usual poise;
Then loosing the brake, I continued ahead
Till I came to a light that was just turning
red.
Thinking fast, I decided the best thing to
do
Was to step on the pedal and hurry on
through.
Well, that's when the fuss and
excitement began!
I knocked a man down--oh, the best-looking
man!
This was the morning's most scary mishap.
I didn't exactly run over the chap,
But I have to admit I so narrowly missed
him,
It frightened the poise right out of my
system.
So kneeling beside him, I--I--well, I
kissed 'im!
A second went by, maybe six, maybe seven,
Then,
"Begorry!" he said, "Sure, I've gone straight to heaven!"
O, handsome and bold was his Irishman's
face,
And his voice scattered shamrocks all over
the place.
Since then, for I love him a very great
deal,
When we go for a ride I let Pat take the wheel.
Not that I'm not a fine driver! Not that!
But:
"You're better at kissin' than drivin'!" says Pat.
Ernestine Cobern Beyer
March 23,
1959
Vonnie and I had fun on our trip to Swarthmore—she’s such
good company. She was telling me that
Kathie seemed more like a friend than a sister.
She said the only thing was, she had to think what she was going to say
before she said it, so Kathie wouldn’t get mad at her.
“It’s been good
for me, though,” she said. “It’s taught
me not to put my foot in everyone’s mouth.”
We started out early
to be sure we’d arrive in time for Kathie’s swimming meet at Temple
University. The building turned out to
be on a heavily-trafficked street like Washington Street in Boston. We inched our way along as the minutes flew
by, and every time I asked for directions, I was told we were practically
there. A 3:50 I finally found the
University and prepared to turn left on a side street and park. A man barked at me from a passing car, “You
can’t turn left here, lady!” but I decided to do it anyway.
I took a guilty
look in my rearview mirror where I saw a big red police car with a big
red-faced policeman at the wheel. I had
no recourse but to fall back on my feminine wiles. I pulled over, rolled down my window, and
called to him, “Officer, you’re just the man I want to see. I’ve come all the way from Boston to see my
daughter in a swimming meet and I’ve had a perfectly terrible time trying to
find Temple University, can you help me, I’ll just die if I’m late!”
He calmed down
from a raging lion to a purring tabby, not without kindly informing me that I
shouldn’t have made a left turn where I did.
He showed me where I could park the car and pointed out the location of
the pool. He told me he was from
Attleboro himself, and we wonderingly agreed it was a small world.
Kathie swam
beautifully, and her coach told me they were all impressed with her
progress. She flunked the swimming test
required of all freshmen, but by the time she passed it a couple of weeks
later, the coach saw her possibilities—in those suits you can see everything. Kathie has become addicted to the sport. She says she always feels wonderful after
a meet, but still has butterflies in her stomach before the starting signal. She loses two or three pounds every time from
sheer nervousness.
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