“You’re taking the turn too wide,” David Presser shouted, rising up out of his seat and leaning over me. For a minute, I thought he was going to grab the steering wheel.

I was turning right onto Wake Forest Road from Six Forks, there by the K-Mart, on my way to Ligon Junior High. This was the school bus route I’d been assigned, and it was my fledging run. I was nervous.

David Presser had been assigned to ride with me for the first week. He was a year ahead of me at school and an experienced bus driver. He made it clear he didn’t care much for his assignment, or me.

We attended the same church, his mother had even been my Sunday School teacher. I wasn’t sure what I’d ever done to earn his disgust, but I got the impression he thought girls weren’t good drivers.

“I’ve got it,” I said more to myself than to him, as I wheeled the lumbering 1955 Chevy school bus around the turn.

“Slow down!”

I was heading towards a late model Cadillac facing me in the turning lane, waiting for the green arrow to turn on to Six Forks. I could see the driver and front seat passenger. Their eyes grew wider and wider the closer I approached.

Crunch!

I clipped the left side of the Caddy’s front bumper. Just barely.

“I told you!” David hissed. “Get out of the intersection and pull over up there.”

I did as instructed, my stomach tightening in knots.

“Put your signal on! Didn’t you learn anything?”

I could feel the blood draining from my head. I eased the bus to the curb, fighting the urge to throw up.

I swung the door open. David and I piled out of the bright orange bus. Meanwhile the Cadillac pulled into the K-Mart parking lot and drove towards us, coming to a stop on the other side of the sidewalk.

“A Cadillac,” David snorted. “You had to hit a Cadillac.”

The Cadillac occupants were dressed like they were headed to church or something. The man stepped out of the car while the woman remained in the passenger seat.

He walked to the front and examined the bumper, rubbing his finger along the shiny chrome.

“I don’t see any damage,” he said.

I knelt down to get a better look. In truth, I didn’t see any either.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

“You scared the dickens out of me,” the woman said, as she stepped from the car and walked towards us. She wore a loose, sleeveless dress in a cheery chartreuse.

David stood scowling, the lenses of his thick glasses reflecting the bright afternoon sun. He crossed his arms, pressing his thick lips together as if to keep from spitting. Presser was a good name for him.

“I’m so sorry. This is my first run. I just didn’t estimate the distance right.”

“I told her to stop,” David interjected defensively.

“Your first run?”

“Yes, I just got my school bus driver’s certification. I’m supposed to pick up kids at Ligon.”

“How old are you, honey?” the woman asked.

“Seventeen.”
“I was seventeen once,” the man smiled.

He and the woman exchanged glances.

“Really, there’s no harm to the car. You gave us a good scare, but I reckon you’re scared, too.”

More like petrified.

I nodded, my eyes welling with tears.

“We’ll just let it go then,” the man said.

I looked up at him with amazed relief. I stuck out my hand to shake his, but he pulled me into his arms instead for a hug. The woman grabbed me next, wrapping me in a warm embrace. She smelled of baby powder.

“Just be more careful the next time,” the man said as he climbed back into his Cadillac.

“Oh, I will, I surely will!” I said, waving to them as they backed away.

“You got off lucky,” David said as I turned to walk back to the bus. He sounded disappointed.

“I still have to report this to Coach Lehning.”

The rest of the week with David Presser in my bus was tense. He either barked directions or sat in the seat by the door in sullen silence.

I did my best to be careful.

I never had another accident, and I went through three different buses over the course of my high school bus driver career. After the 1955 Chevy, I upgraded to a 1957, also a manual shift with a temperamental choke, and then my last year, all the drivers scored brand new 1974 Fords with automatic transmissions.

I guess if I had to hit something that first day, hitting a Cadillac at least made for a better story.