D.C.’s car cell-phone ban is very wise, I discovered during my driving lesson this weekend. But I’d take it a step further: Don’t let people talk in cars at all.

That’s because conversation saps precious mental resources from such tasks as noticing stop signs. While silent, I drove like a pro, cruising at speeds upward of forty miles per hour. I spent several minutes on a four-lane road without breaking a sweat. Then, I turned left, boldly crossing a lane of oncoming traffic. I even remembered to check my mirrors with some frequency—no mean feat given my one-month driving hiatus.

Things went south when I told Jason (my friend and driving instructor) about a strange personal essay I recently read. In it, a Poynter Institute scholar has a moral quandary in a church bathroom, involving a little boy and his zipper. Seriously. And to top things off, the writer then posted a link on his blog to solicit admiration for his hackneyed literary devices.

Thus distracted, I rolled right past a stop sign. A few minutes later, I nearly knocked off Jason’s left mirror while slaloming through parked cars on a narrow street.

Rattled, I turned over the wheel to my instructor, who drove to a church so I could practice parking. At first, I didn’t have much luck—either I hit an imaginary car, or I ended up all crooked in the space. But just as I was about to give up, a church-bound lady flashed me a reassuring smile. I pulled into the next space without a hitch.

Maybe she was an angel.

Driving lesson 5
Destination: McLean
Lessons learned: Don’t talk and drive
Weather conditions: Cold
Sadie: B
Jessica: Truant

The other weekend, Jessica Gould went camping in lieu of driving, and she left me all alone with a new instructor: my boyfriend, Tim.

I wanted to put Tim at ease, to make him feel like he was not going to meet a low-speed demise in a Zipcar named “Yuletide.” So I projected an easy confidence as I took the wheel.

“Press down on the brake pedal and take the parking brake off,” said Tim. Easy enough, I thought, but which one is the brake again? I flashed back to Lesson #1, when Jessica mused on pedal placement.

“It makes sense that the brake pedal is bigger than the gas,” she said. Or was it the other way around? I decided to guess, and I guessed wrong. A look of panic flashed in my instructor’s eyes as Yuletide’s engine revved.

To Tim’s credit, he didn’t take my keys away, and we went on to drift around Wheaton. This particular neighborhood had many dead ends, which gave me opportunity to perfect my three-point turn. Less accommodating to driving lessons was this one narrow street with a very large boat parked right behind a father washing a car with his young daughter, who had a glint in her eyes like she was just itching to dart out in front of me.

Yes, I could see eye glints. I took this particular obstacle course at about 2 miles per hour.

I also had trouble with the many four-way stops in this particular community. I prefer to let everyone go first, including vehicles that got to the intersection just a little after me as well as those still five or six blocks away. “Don’t confuse other drivers,” said Tim, who waved on several cars while I was paralyzed with indecision.

On the way home, we drove under the Beltway. I could see cars zipping along at speeds that would make me catatonic. On that congested interstate, one poor decision would seem all too easily to lead to human tragedy on a massive scale.

“Someday, you’ll drive on that,” Tim said.

Next time: Jessica and I learn the importance of imagination.

DRIVING LESSON 3

Destination: Wheaton
Weather Conditions: Unseasonably warm
Lessons Learned: Don’t confuse other drivers.
Sadie: B.
Jessica: Truant

This week, Jessica Gould and I took to the mean streets of—well, of a high school parking lot, where we drove in circles. This may seem like a step down from our conquering of McLean last week, but parking lots are trickier than they sound. For one thing, a father-and-son duo kept tailgating us. They circled the lot, stopped for a 10-minute chat, then did it again. That looked pretty boring to us, but it was a safari adventure compared to the father-and-daughter team who did nothing but sit in a parking space and watch us go around and around.

I have not driven in a high school lot since I “passed” my driving exam ten years ago. There were several elements to the test: a three point turn, the dreaded parallel parking, driving on an actual street, etc. I only completed one—the “quick stop”—before my instructor mistakenly signed me off on the entire test. This was a lucky break for me, if not for Florida’s pedestrians, because I had only driven once before. An entire summer of drivers ed, and I completely avoided driving—opting to stay inside and watch the scary crash videos instead.

Since then, I have scammed friends and relatives into driving me everywhere I wanted to go. Now, I am scamming them into letting me behind the wheel.

This week’s teacher was Beth, who loosed us on the streets of Upper Northwest after our parking-lot antics made her sufficiently dizzy. There, I learned that you should accelerate through curves, because that gives you more control. Drawing upon last week’s lesson, I also made sure to wave to neighbors. But unlike the friendly Virginians, it turns out that D.C. residents don’t wave back. Instead, they avert their eyes—as if they expect us to roll down the window and ask for spare change.

Additionally, we learned that you don’t have to brake for woodland creatures such as birds. “They get out of your way,” said Beth. “Well, not that one,” she added, as Jessica rolled over a previously-flattened squirrel.

Next week: Jessica spends some time communing with nature while I tackle Mount Pleasant in a Zipcar.

DRIVING LESSON 2
Destination: Upper Northwest
Weather Conditions: Sunny
Lessons Learned: Re-running over roadkill is A-OK.
Sadie: B+. Overcame fear of high schools.
Jessica: B+. Overcame fear of side-mounted car mirrors.