I’m not bragging, but I was a distracted driver before it was cool. I totaled one car in a SINGLE CAR ACCIDENT on my way to visit Jana Sneller Bermudez in Austin — because I was balancing my checkbook on the steering wheel. My high school boyfriend, Jeff Wilkinson, and his father, Tom Wilkinson, could not BELIEVE that I drove with my knees instead of my hands (in my defense, I learned that from my father). Jeff wrote me the other day to ask if I drove Ed’s car with my knees (I assure you I did not, Ed, although I would have if I could have figured out that darn shifting). [I think these stories are the root of my love of bicycling.]

Anyway, I have lots more Elizabeth-driving horror stories, but the one that stands out as the worst, and the one where I was showered with the most love, was the one where I was visiting my grandmothers in small-town Texas. My mom’s mom, the beloved and wonderful Bette Mills, lived in Pleasanton, Texas, where she was a business owned and widely respected and beloved part of the community. My dad’s mom, Willa Mae Preston, lived in Poteet, Texas, where she was an elementary school teacher for more than 40 years and an equally loved pillar of the community.

My dad’s mom was a bit flighty, and it is safe to say the terrible driving came straight from her to me (with a small stop at my dad …). My sister Jennei and I were always terrified of driving with her. I remember being a young child in the backseat of her car as she careened around the freeway, switching three lanes to exit, and closing my eyes. I decided I would live or die, and watching wasn’t going to make it better.

Granny, me and Mamaw in a picture from my college graduation.

So, soon after I got my drivers license, I started insisting that I drive when I visited my Mamaw. One day, Mamaw took me to San Antonio, a special treat that I loved. I was driving her car, of course, because I was the GOOD driver, 16 and full of much more confidence than I had a right to be. We had a lovely day, and we were heading back to Poteet.

I was following Mamaw’s directions, and saw the freeway entrance she mentioned ahead of me. I carefully and confidently sped up, steering us leftward to get on I-35. At which point we were hit by a Honda Civic (blue) on our left and an Oldsmobile of some sort (red) on the right. We were stunned — my Mamaw and I were both fine, we immediately figured that out — but I couldn’t figure out how TWO cars could hit us at the exact same time. What kind of terrible drivers must they be?!

I got out — everyone else was fine — and the nun (yes, that said NUN) who was driving the Civic showed me what had happened: Between our car and the freeway entrance was a TRAFFIC LIGHT. In our direction, that light was RED. I had completely and without pausing run a traffic light without even seeing it, and in the process hit a nun (yes, I’m surely going straight to hell) and totaled my Mamaw’s car. Remember how I assumed everyone else was such a terrible driver? Guess what my dad ADORES to remind me of, even to this day? Yes, Mamaw, she the butt of endless driving ridicule, had never totaled a car in her life.

Here’s the thank you note, and the love part. Yes, I was a complete overconfident driving disaster, but my Mamaw told me again and again that day, as I was shaking with fear and horror, without hesitation, that she loved me wholeheartedly and that everything was fine. And when we got back to my Granny’s house, in Pleasanton, she listened to the story, fed me a meal, and then insisted (INSISTED) that I drive her (very, very fancy late model Mercury Grand Marquis) to the grocery store, that very day. I protested, and she and my Mamaw both insisted.

Filled with trepidation, I drove us both out of her rural address and to Pleasanton, where I rented a movie I didn’t want to see just to fulfill the need to show I’d been out. I was terrified driving there and back, but I did it, with her support and love right there next to me in the car.

From that day, I learned that I needed to pay a bit more attention when driving (and, to be clear, I haven’t totaled a car in at least, oh … let’s not tempt fate and count years, but it’s been a while). I also learned that my Granny and my Mamaw loved me more than any thing, even a thing as highly valued as a fancy car in South Texas. It was a powerful lesson.