A Note on Our Driver

Our driver, despite his apparent youth, was a master of his trade. Trade? Call it an art. There was passion in his dedication to forward motion and genius in his ability to get around jams.

All drivers have to assume a certain willful disregard in racing through a crosswalk teaming with bicyclists and pedestrians. Our driver was positively nonchalant. With a disinterest that was almost philosophical, he found gaps between cars where they did not exist and made lane changes that transcended any consideration for the consequences on traffic behind him. What I found most remarkable was that he absolutely refused to extend the courtesy to any other driver, as if it would be an insult to their honor as students of this highest of modern arts.

S did not know his name. He had been serving as her driver since the day before. I told her to tell him that I was giving him the English name, Dale Jr., instructing her to explain to him that it was the name of a famous American racecar driver. He received his new title in the spirit of the honor with which it was intended.