by Angelica Gibbs
This story was first published in The New Yorker on 15 June 1940
On the afternoon Marian took her second driving test, Mrs Ericson went with her. 'It's probably better to
have someone a little older with you,' Mrs Ericson said as Marian slipped into the driver's seat beside her.
'Perhaps last time your Cousin Bill made you nervous, talking too much on the way.'
'Yes, Ma'am,' Marian said in her soft unaccented voice. 'They probably do like it better if a white person
shows up with you.'
'Oh, I don't think it's that,' Mrs Ericson began, and subsided after a glance at the girl's set profile.
Marian drove the car slowly through the shady suburban streets. It was one of the first hot days of June,
and when they reached the boulevard they found it crowded with cars headed for the beaches.
'Do you want me to drive?' Mrs Ericson asked. 'I'll be glad to if you're feeling jumpy.' Marian shook her
head. Mrs Ericson watched her dark, competent hands and wondered for the thousandth time how the
house had ever managed to get along without her, or how she had lived through those earlier years when
her household had been presided over by a series of slatternly white girls who had considered housework
demeaning and the care of children an added insult. 'You drive beautifully, Marian,' she said. 'Now, don't
think of the last time. Anybody would slide on a steep hill on a wet day like that.'
'It takes four mistakes to flunk you,' Marian said. 'I don't remember doing all the things the inspector
marked down on my blank.'
'People say that they only want you to slip them a little something,' Mrs Ericson said doubtfully.
'No,' Marian said. 'That would only make it worse, Mrs Ericson. I know.'
The car turned right, at a traffic signal, into a side road and slid up to the curb at the rear of a short line of
parked cars. The inspectors had not arrived yet.
'You have the papers?' Mrs. Ericson asked. Marian took them out of her bag: her learner's permit; the
car registration, and her birth certificate. They settled down to the dreary business of waiting.
'It will be marvellous to have someone dependable to drive the children to school everyday,' Mrs Ericson
Marian looked up from the list of driving requirements she had been studying. 'It'll make things simpler at
the house, won't it?'she said.
'Oh, Marian,' Mrs Ericson exclaimed, 'if I could only pay you half of what you're worth!'
'Now, Mrs Ericson,' Marian said firmly. They looked at each other and smiled with affection.
Two cars with official insignia on their doors stopped across the street. The inspectors leaped out, very
brisk and military in their neat uniforms. Marian's hands tightened on the wheel. 'There's the one who
flunked me last time,' she whispered, pointing to a stocky, self-important man who had begun to shout
directions at the driver at the head of the line. 'Oh, Mrs Ericson.'
'Now, Marian,' Mrs Ericson said. They smiled at each other again, rather weakly.
The inspector who finally reached their car was not the stocky one but a genial, middle-aged man who
grinned broadly as he thumbed over their papers. Mrs Ericson started to get out of the car.
'Don't you want to come along?' the inspector asked. 'Mandy and I don't mind company.'
Mrs Ericson was bewildered for a moment. 'No,' she said, and stepped to the curb. 'I might make Marian
self-conscious. She's a fine driver, Inspector.'
'Sure thing,' the inspector said, winking at Mrs Ericson. He slid into the seat beside Marian. 'Turn right at
the corner, Mandy-Lou.'
From the curb, Mrs Ericson watched the car move smoothly up the street.
The inspector made notations in a small black book. 'Age?' he inquired presently, as they drove along.
He looked at Marian out of the corner of his eye. 'Old enough to have quite a flock of pickaninnies, eh?'
Marian did not answer.
'Left at this corner,' the inspector said, 'and park between that truck and the green Buick.'
The two cars were very close together, but Marian squeezed in between them without too much
manoeuvering. 'Driven before, Mandy-Lou?' the inspector asked.
'Yes, sir. I had a license for three years in Pennsylvania.'
'Why do you want to drive a car?'
'My employer needs me to take her children to and from school.'
'Sure you don't really want to sneak out nights to meet some young blood?' the inspector asked. He
laughed as Marian shook her head.
'Let's see you take a left at the corner and then turn around in the middle of the next block,' the
inspector said. He began to whistle 'Swanee River.' 'Make you homesick?' he asked.
Marian put out her hand, swung around neatly in the street, and headed back in the direction from which
they had come. 'No,' she said. 'I was born in Scranton, Pennsylvania.'
The inspector feigned astonishment. 'You-all ain't Southern?' he said. 'Well, dog my cats if I didn't think
you-all came from down yondah.'
'No sir,' Marian said.
'Turn onto Main Street here and let's see how you-all does in heavier traffic.'
They followed a line of cars along Main Street for several blocks until they came in sight of a concrete
bridge which arched high over the railroad tracks.
'Read that sign at the end of the bridge,' the inspector said.
'"Proceed with caution. Dangerous in slippery weather,"' Marian said.
'You-all sho can read fine,' the inspector exclaimed. 'Where d'you learn to do that, Mandy?'
'I got my college degree last year,' Marian said. Her voice was not quite steady.
As the car crept up the slope of the bridge the inspector burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he could
scarcely give his next direction. 'Stop here,' he said, wiping his eyes, 'then start 'er up again. Mandy got
her degree, did she? Dog my cats!'
Marian pulled up beside the curb. She put the car in neutral, pulled on the emergency, waited a moment,
and then put the car into gear again. Her face was set. As she released the brake her foot slipped off the
clutch pedal and the engine stalled.
'Now, Mistress Mandy,' the inspector said, 'remember your degree.'
'Damn you!" Marian cried. She started the car with a jerk.
The inspector lost his joviality in an instant. 'Return to the starting place, please,' he said, and made four
very black crosses at random in the squares on Marian's application blank.
Mrs Ericson was waiting at the curb where they had left her.
As Marian stopped the car the inspector jumped out and brushed past her, his face purple. 'What
happened?' Mrs Ericson asked, looking after him with alarm.
Marian stared down at the wheel and her lip trembled.
'Oh, Marian, again?' Mrs. Ericson said.
Marian nodded. 'In a sort of different way,' she said, and slid over to the right-hand side of the car.