As a single person, I am rarely in the passenger seat. When it happens, it is a real treat and today, I got to enjoy the show.
My car was in need of a little TLC so I scheduled an appointment for today. Driving in to the Toyota dealership where it would be serviced, I passed police activity which involved an ambulance just before I crossed over Portland’s Burnside Bridge. Coming out of the tunnel leading to Beaverton, traffic slowed. Flashing lights let me know something serious had happened and, as we crawled past the rollover accident, I said a little prayer for anyone involved.
The dealership opened at 7:00 and I rolled up to the short line in front of the bay windows a few minutes early so I could check in a get my name on theist for the shuttle service that would take me to work.
After less than 15 minutes of waiting Burt called my name and we walked out to the Toyota Odyssey that would take me to work. Burt told me this was his retirement job and that he knew my school because his granddaughter attends it. We chatted about how over-crowded we are, the number of new houses going up and the high cost of buying and renting a house in the metro Portland area. All the while my eyes were off the road. I looked at Burt, like a good conversationalist should, and I looked around at the traffic, the sky, the interior of the Odyssey, anywhere but on the road for the 15 minute drive.
At 3;45 this afternoon, I got a call from Burt, letting me know he was on the way. I walked out to the front of the school where a warmish sun was shining. Sheltered by the school, I took of my raincoat and sat on the bench at the front, normally reserved for students awaiting parents, but empty today because it was a PD day. Burt arrived a few minutes later and we got to talking about why each of us moved to Portland. He blamed it on the winter of 1978 and we swapped blizzard stories.
The ride was over quickly. I paid my bill and picked up my car and began my commute home. I didn’t mind being the driver because I’d had a chance twice today to enjoy being in the passenger seat.
I love being a passenger! It was fun to ride along with you and Burt on both drives.
I wonder- beside the accident, did you see anything along the way you hadn’t been able to notice as the driver?
We went a route I don’t usually drive on my way to work.
Were you less stressed as the passenger? I find I am, although there are moments when I’d like to be in control. 🙂
Although I admit to some control issues, Burt was a very sensible driver and we were mostly driving through residential neighborhoods, so I was OK.
What a treat to get the view from the passenger’s seat!
I am frequently the passenger when my husband drives. It’s easy to take the point of view for granted-thanks for the reminder to enjoy the ride no matter which spot you’re in.
Great point of view post. It truly is different when you are the passenger and can focus on all that is said and all that is seen.
It’s interesting to not only be the passenger but to also spend time in the company of a stranger. It was interesting to read about all your thoughts and the connections you made with Burt.
I had a similar experience when my car was serviced. The guy driving me around had one other lady in the car who wanted to get home quickly, so I got to ride along longer. We chatted a lot and I saw where his grandparents used to live and talked about how he was retired also and this job was so much fun for him. It was just a relaxing time with a person you wouldn’t have met otherwise… a peek into another side of life on the other side of the car!
I understand about being a passenger since I am still not cleared to drive. Familiar routes take on a whole new look.
Does it make you jealous of people who have “drivers”. I live very close to my work, but if I didn’t, I’d love to have a driver. Especially one like Burt, who sounds like he enjoys his job.
I liked how you also took the bench at your school usually reserved for students…another new seat and another new view for you!
Great slice of life…seeing things from a new perspective.