Reflections: 'Just the way I imagined'

By Ed Piper

It's just the way I imagined it.

Or least, I hoped it could work out like this.

When I lost my driving privileges December 28 by the good graces of the State of California, I began thinking of what the rest of my winter and spring could be like.

You see, I experienced a stroke August 19. I say "experienced" rather than "suffered", because--it was a God thing--I came out pretty well, even though the doctor's report described the stroke as "acute", which sounds pretty bad.

I spent four days in Kaiser Hospital Aug. 19-22, mind you, under the COVID lockdown. So even though they were taking care of me, my wife never saw my hospital room. The specialists who came in and tested me and consulted with me were never in my room with a colleague.

Just me, alone, with whoever the specialist was--they, all masked up and gowned up for the coronavirus. Me, solo, in the hospital bed, watching TV or whatever else I did to occupy my days there.

Anyway, after my driving privileges were taken away by DMV, I had to make an appointment later in January for a behind-the-wheel driving test. A stroke is a reportable condition, I learned, so Kaiser had to communicate to the DMV that I had had the medical event. They had no choice.

Our beloved governor, Gavin Newsom, canceled all behind-the-wheel driving tests from mid-November (I discovered) till mid-January. Then, as conditions for COVID moved forward a little, the DMV was scheduling people for tests, including kids 16 years old who needed a driving test to get their license for the first time.

I got an appointment for May 5.

Imagine that: cinco de mayo (remember, proper nouns are not capitalized in Spanish, which I teach) would be the date I had to wait till to take my test.

Somebody laughed--it was like I was 15 or 16 again, 50 years ago, and having to take a driver's test again!

So, as I date it, from December 28 on I had to beg, borrow, or steal a ride to anywhere I wanted to go. The lockdown was in effect. There wasn't a lot that was open out there.

My wife Dianna, so patient, drove me to substitute-teaching four days a week beginning January 4. I had an assignment at Canyon Crest Academy in the San Diego Union School District, so I would faithfully get up, get ready, and allow her to drive me to the campus. Reopening was blocked, so January began a handful of kids at CCA (32 max out of 2600 total students, some days 18, others 11) sitting outside in the freezing cold doing distance learning on their Chromebooks.

One day I forgot to bring my sweatshirt, since I had no locker (my car) to store my stuff in. I got super-cold supervising a handful of students (six at the max, three or four other days) on my assigned quad at CCA, behind "F" building--where the sun casts shadows till lunch time at 11:18 or so each morning during the winter.

That morning, to stay warm (I usually don't get sick in the cold, but I could feel my body temp was dropping), I just started walking around in an irregular circle or square on the perimeter of the small quad (not the main quad of the campus) as the students I was supervising worked on their laptops under pop-ups (awnings) set up for them all over campus. (Remember at that point that kids could not go into buildings due to the COVID restrictions).

Fast-forward to May 5, a date I thought would never come, and I passed my first driver's test in 50 years (49, actually, the summer of the year I turned 16, 1970) with a 94. The examiner, who rode with me, told me at the conclusion of the test, "You're a very good driver. You just have to be reminded of certain things." One was a bike path I crossed, which I never saw, where by law I was supposed to stop and look in all directions. Not sure where that one was. A deduction of two points.

In my reverie after December 28, I pictured--I imagined--regaining my driving privileges May 5, then covering La Jolla High baseball and softball at the end of their regular seasons, and following CIF playoffs as well.

Guess what? Today is Sat., June 12, the Viking baseball team has played into the weekend for the postseason, and I am going to the game--me driving myself!--to take photos and write up a game story.

I thought back in February and March, when things were still very much locked down, I might regain my own wheels (310,000+ now on my 2001 Tacoma truck) and be mobile enough to trek over to the campus to cover events.

I am thankful. You can never imagine how hard it is to beg, borrow, cajole, plead, convince (I didn't actually plead) a ride to somewhere you want to go as a 67-year-old male. Like, no cars go that way except Lyft, which I took many rides on to LJHS sports events from their restart in February till May 8 (the actual day I got permission in the mail to begin driving again). My investment in Lyft is small but sizeable ($18 up to $50, I think, the latter from Granite Hills High at night, when rates surge, where the Viking football team played Christian).

Stories to tell.