Communications Gap

I pulled into my driveway and heard a loud clunk from under the hood. I tried shifting, but none of the gears worked. The car just rolled toward the street. I applied the parking brake, but it didn’t hold. School was out, so I leaned on the horn for Patrick, then almost 10.

Patrick finally stuck his head out the door.

“Get out here right now!” I hollered.

“OK, just a minute.”  He disappeared inside the house and I began to fume. Finally, he came out to the car.

“Get a big stone from the ditch and put it behind the wheel.”

He tried it twice with a stone and once with a brick, but the car still rolled.

By now the car was almost out of the driveway and I was out of patience.

“Get in here. I want you to stand on the brake with both feet as hard as you can.”  I got out of the car and stood beside it with one foot on the brake until he could bring both of his feet to bear. Satisfied the car wouldn’t move with him in it, I walked to the front wheel and looked down.

Patrick had put the brick and the stone uphill from the wheel. No wonder it still rolled. I shook my head and repositioned the brick, securing the car.

“OK, son, you can get out of the car, now. Patrick, what were you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

I knew and it was my fault. From where I sat, behind the wheel was downhill. From where he stood in front of the car, behind the wheel meant uphill. He had followed my instructions to the letter. I gave him a warm smile.

“Thanks for your help, son, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.