I drove,
clutched and shifted gears.

He directed.
“Go straight there. Turn right here.”

I did what he told me—
only to find myself
stopped on a steep, side street,
in front of a line of cars
and too afraid to shift.
“I can’t do it,” I said.

He clenched, yelled.
I cowered,
gunned the engine,
let out the clutch.
But before I risked the stall,
I pressed in the clutch and the brake.

He shifted the car into neutral,
pulled the emergency brake.

While we switched places,
he apologized to the drivers behind us.