Sunday Drive


It was the first Sunday in spring and Mrs. Green felt so excited. She was on her way to Sylvia’s house. Sylvia was Mrs. Green’s oldest, funniest, and best friend. Sylvia knew everything about Mrs. Green and Mrs. Green knew everything about Sylvia.

Mrs. Green pulled up to Sylvia’s house and honked the horn. Sylvia came running out the front door. The two friends looked very similar. They wore what they liked to call “a jaunty scarf,” wrapped around their heads and necks, flowing down their backs. Large sunglasses covered their eyes and made them both look mysterious.

Sylvia opened the door and hopped into the old Rolls Royce, Mrs. Green called Rosy. Mr. Green had reworked Rosy for Mrs. Green time and time again. The two friends hugged each other and simultaneously began digging though their purses. They talked back and forth quickly and came to a decision about what music to play for their ride.

They turned the music up loud and away they flew, down the street, windows down, music playing, scarves flying. They sang at the top of their lungs to all their favorite songs.  They drove, and drove, and sang, and laughed, and drove some more.

Sunday drives in spring had become a tradition for the two friends long, long ago when they were teenagers. Mrs. Green was anxious to learn to drive but her parents were not so sure about it. The winter had been snowy that year and the Mrs. Green’s father had put her off by saying, “you can drive in the spring, when the weather is nicer, and the roads are safer.” Mrs. Green had been just as determined then as she was now. Finally spring had come and on the first Sunday afternoon in spring Mrs. Green’s father could put her off no longer.

Mrs. Green loved to drive. Sylvia was not so sure. Mrs. Green gave Sylvia driving lessons in a green Volkswagen Bug, Mrs. Green liked to call Myrtle. Myrtle was old and had some issues. The horn honked when you turned left and would not honk at all when you pressed the button. When you started it up it smelled of sausages. The sunroof leaked, but only when someone was sitting in the passenger seat. Mrs. Green didn’t care. Mrs. Green loved Myrtle for all her character and flaws just like she did everything else. Myrtle also had a manual transmission. This was not a problem for Mrs. Green, but for Sylvia it was another story.

Sylvia tried hard to smoothly take her foot off the clutch and roll away from the curb like Mrs. Green did. She tried hard not to jerk, poor Myrtle down the road. She spent sleepless nights mentally practicing the perfect, smooth transition on the top of a hill without rolling backwards.

Mrs. Green was patient with Sylvia. Mrs. Green played Sylvia’s favorite songs on the radio and told her to “feel the rhythm of the music.” She told Sylvia she could do it. She told Sylvia one day she would not even think about shifting gears or rolling backwards at stop lights. She promised Sylvia she would stick with her until she got it, and one day when they were old ladies they would go for Sunday drives, with jaunty scarves on their heads, and mysterious sunglasses, driving down the road, singing their favorite songs at the top of their lungs. And Mrs. Green always kept her promises.

Copyright Terri Neagle Donaldson 2015

Terri Neagle Donaldson and Stressfreestories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Terri Neagle Donaldson and Stressfreestories with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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