Shirley MacArthur spent the afternoon of her 84th birthday getting lessons from me on how to make lane changes on two of the busiest streets in San Francisco (Fell and Oak.) Shirley hadn't learned how to drive until she was 35 and never liked changing lanes. If she needed to go left, she drove one block past the desired street and then made three right turns.
The strategy worked fine for almost 50 years - until she had to take a driving test. Shirley needed a teacher and chose me when she found out I was a cab driver like her late husband. I'd taken up teaching because I'd burned out on full time cab driving and needed a mental break. I would drive taxi three days and teach two or three.
It made me a more careful driver. I mean, I couldn't very well tell fifteen year-olds to slow down than race around like a lunatic myself. I became the world's safest cab driver and the most dangerous driving teacher. My taxi colleagues had a different view and took to calling me, "the old lady."
Ironically, they also thought I was crazy to take on such a dangerous job. Yeah - not a safe occupation like driving around with a couple hundred in cash in a city filled with junkies. And, I can't remember a single driving student threatening to re-arrange my face.
The truth is that I found teaching a little dull - a real danger because you never knew when a student might suddenly whip a left in front of a charging semi.
I specialized in drivers that were either very good or very bad because they both demanded all my attention: the good ones because I could teach them advanced skills and the bad ones because they kept me alert. Part of this approach included teaching seniors who needed to be re-tested.
Age by itself didn't seem to be very important in determining their chances of improving. The main quality required was the ability to learn new and different ways to do things. Some people could still adapt at 90, others were hopelessly set in their ways at 60.
The classic example was changing lanes. This is where most senior drivers fail. The generation before mine had not been taught to look over their shoulders. Instead they only used the mirrors. But, of course, you can't see everything unless you take an over-the-shoulder glance. In California, if a driver doesn't do it, he or she flunks the test.
I had one student who had failed three times because he neglected to take that glance. He was only in his forties but I've never taught anyone so impossible. I had him make at least 50 lane changes and had to tell to look every single time. At the end of the lesson, he turned to me and asked, "Can you look over your shoulder too much?"
This sort of hardened mentality wasn't a problem with Shirley. She was sharp and she was game. The only difficulties were getting over her fear and teaching her to make those lane change in heavy traffic - the toughest technique in driving. We spent three rush hours going up and down, whipping from one lane to another, on those insane, congested streets. The next day she easily passed the test.
"You're a great teacher," she told me as I drove her home, "you should stick to teaching ... I always tell my cab drivers to get out of the business - it's just too dangerous out there."
"Yeah, " I said laconically, "I know."
"No, you don't," she said. Then she told me about her husband.
They were in love and were very happy together. They opened a small cafe that gradually became successful. Her husband drove the cab a couple of nights a week to help with the expenses. When the cafe started to bring in enough money he decided to finally quit driving.
"On his last night," Shirley told me, "on his last ride, he picked up a crazy ex-marine dressed like a WWI Russian officer and he killed my Bobby with a sword ... so, no, you don't know how dangerous it is."
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