I made a reservation with the city-county office to take a special driving course. My own insurance company was allowing a ten percent discount for those who completed it. Oh hey, I can do that. Sure, I was calculating the monies saved and where I would use it; never gave a big thought as to where the course would be located.
The advert said, "Learn to drive on rough, rugged terrain. Wind-swept, breathe-taking dunes await your arrival. Enjoy your extra time at lunch visiting our shops!"
On the morning of the class I arrived at the chartered bus stop; just a one day trip, they said, so I packed light. It was slow going at first, with the driver verifying every one's reservation. Still I was so excited, I almost missed the fact that we only traveled half a mile before we stopped. We stopped?
Oh the visions of grandeur that left my brain in a two second flash. We pulled into this conglomerate of parking lots. We were at a mall that had been closed for quite some time. A gigantic oval of sand circled 'round and 'round, and I thought: "I don't know what to think about this!"
It was rough alright. The sand was anything but still, shifting constantly, with highs and lows that made me nauseous. Cute, little fake palms trees disappeared when Mr. Wilson did his "James Bond" spin. Then Mrs. Spencer ran over them, dropping her transmission and a load of trans liquid into the sand. "Not to worry!" she yelled as she stepped out of the car, "they use sand at the race track, to take up spills, all the time."
Finally my turn arrived, and I stood there looking at the utter destruction of the driving course. "Excuse me," I addressed the instructor, "how can I complete the 'sand dune run' without a sand dune being there?" The sharp shrill of a whistle met our ears, as he called everyone to go.
The bus driver handed out an 'exit surveys' - asking students' opinions of the course. "Oh well," he says, "there's always the great shopping here."
