As the sweeping curve becomes the ramp onto the F3 there is a palpable rise in focus as he shifts in his seat to check the mirrors - for the umpteenth time. This was both the best and the worst part of the trip. On one hand they were leaving the city; on the other it was two hours of monotonous concrete and traffic - a blur of concentration and anticipation. He finally gets to drive to Newcastle after weeks of cajoling and tantrums. She is still unsure as to whether he is ready for this level of driving but 7.30am on a Sunday seems like a reasonable option. After the inevitable stop at Pattison’s for coffee and pastries they are away. At least cyclists weren’t allowed on the freeway!
‘Check your mirrors?’ her voice is deliberately calm as she echoes the driving instructor’s reminders. Her mind is racing – she is thinking about all matter of things. He had obviously taken notice in the driving lessons and she maintained her conviction that kids should only get their Ls at 16 under special circumstances. He was more assured and this maturity could only prove positive. It didn’t stop the whinging but she’d rather those fights than the alternative...
*****
The sun streams through the windscreen as they both focus on the road and the traffic. They are quiet as he confidently maintains both speed and focus. As they cross the bridge at Brooklyn she smiles as she remembers the first time she drove this route with him in the capsule. It had been horrendous. It had been a whole different type of stressful and, being pre-mobile, she had been totally stranded as he had screamed his way up the freeway.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Did she tell him? Another time maybe ... but it was time to broach another subject. There is a sense that he knows it was coming; his neck tenses and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. By breaking the silence he has opened the can of worms he’d been avoiding. ‘O well,’ she thought, ‘here goes nothing...’
A siren cuts through the...