Come See Us at Printers Row Lit Fest

The schedule for this year’s Printers Row Lit Fest is in today’s issue of the Chicago Tribune – I’ll be leading a Memoir Writing Workshop at noon on Sunday, June 7.

June 7 (Sunday), noon
Printer’s Row Lit Fest
Memoir Writing Workshop
University Center
Multi-Media Room
525 S. State St.
Chicago, IL
www.printersrowlitfest.org

Wanda Bridgeforth, a student from the memoir-writing class I teach for senior citizens, will read one of her stories during the presentation. The two of us will offer tips on how to get started on a memoir, and then what to do to keep yourself writing once you get started. Wanda is the perfect living example of how this works –since starting my class three years ago she’s written enough stories to fill the first volume of her own memoir. With her daughter’s help, Wanda self-published On The Move last Fall — just in time to give the book to family and friends for Christmas. She’ll have copies on hand to show off at our workshop.

Printers Row Lit Fest will sponsor a book signing right after the presentation, and I’ll be signing books in front of our favorite local bookstore at 2:00 that afternoon, too.

June 7 (Sunday) 2 pm

Sandmeyer’s Bookstore
714 S. Dearborn St.
Chicago, IL 60605
Phone & Fax 312-922-2104

It can make a person feel downright proud, living in a neighborhood that devotes an entire festival to books every year. If you’re free on Sunday, June 7, consider coming down to Printers Row and checking out the hood. And our presentation, of course!

That's Wanda and me after one of our memoir-writing classes at the Chicago Cultural Center.

Click and Clack Clicked Here

The Tappet Brothers knew they had to link to my blog after seeing this groovy picture of my sisters and me in front of Cheryl’s lime green 1967 Mustang.

You’ve heard of an NPR show called Car Talk, right? Tom and Ray Magliozzi? Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers? Well, then you can imagine what fun it was to hear my talking computer sing out Doug Mayer’s name from my in box the other day.

Doug Mayer is the head writer of Car Talk and the producer of the radio show’s website. And as all Car Talk fans know, Doug Mayer is not a slave to fashion. Doug Mayer had emailed me to let me know he liked the post I’d written about driving the 2010 Mustang. He liked that post so much, in fact, that he added it to the “Links We Like” Section of the Car Talk website! This is no small thing – cartalk.com receives more than 400,000 unique visitors per week. You read that right: more than 400,000 unique visitors a week.

Hanni didn’t seem at all excited about the attention we might get from this great news. She did, however, take notice when my talking computer started barking out a bio of Doug Mayer’s dog Chloe from the Car Talk website:

Chloe Mayer is Car Talk’s Assistant Staff Canine.

Chloe commutes to Car Talk Plaza with Doug Mayer, her human companion. At Car Talk, her primary responsibility is to greet visitors, shake her tail so violently that her butt knocks over boxes, and bark menacingly when a visit from weird Bob next door is impending.

When not on duty at Car Talk Plaza, Chloe is responsible for keeping a number of beds at Mayer’s home office warm and fur covered, and staying on guard against the constant threat posed by possible Fed Ex, UPS-guy or Jehovah’s Witness visits.

In her 22 hours of free time each day, Chloe enjoys sleeping, running alongside skiers, sleeping, hiking, trail running, compost-pile excavation and cataloging, mindless retrieving of objects of all kinds and sleeping.

Now, that’s one job any working dog would love. I’m afraid Hanni is envious.

Blindfolded

That's Roger Keeney doing donuts. (Photo by Mike Maez)

A lot of people who read my post about driving a Mustang convertible last week wondered what the sighted journalists who took the ride blindfolded thought of the experience. Turns out Mike Maez, the photojournalist who took pictures at the event, was one of those lucky journalists. Mike published a post on his own blog about what it was like to drive a Mustang blindfolded. Here’s an excerpt:

Nearly hitting the windshield of the convertible ‘Stang upon entry, even finding the seatbelt on the car became somewhat of a chore. Seat adjustments were made based solely on comfort and not sight, and there was a far greater connection to the steering wheel than ever before. After being given verbal directions on how fast and exactly where to proceed, the 2010 ‘Stang was on its way to the edge of the skidpad for a raw acceleration test.

3…..2…..1…..GO! And we were off, but now instead of seeing the landscape starting to streak by, there was simply the rush of the wind, the growl of the exhaust note, and the chirp of the tires as we were pushed back into our seat. By the time we hit 60, the palms were sweaty, at 70 there was a bit of a pucker, and by 80 we had apparently run out of room and were told to mash on the brakes, hard. ABS kicked in and brought everything to an abrupt conclusion, as apparently we were a little hard on the pedal. That was weird.

Pretty cool to read how Mike Maez’s experience compares with mine. His blog ends with a compliment to Ford for giving Roger Keeney, the blind man who won the contest to drive a Mustang, the thrill of a lifetime. I echo that sentiment.

Heading back there was a greater appreciation for the one thing that every one of us takes for granted not only when driving, but when living. The gift of sight is one that should not be taken lightly, and the next time you put yourself behind the wheel, whether it be the car of your dreams or your mother’s Camry, remember that driving is a privilege that not everyone has. Few if any visually impaired individuals will ever get to go through Roger’s driving experience, but we certainly commend Ford for giving him the opportunity.

80 mph

That's Tommy Kendall behind the wheel before we headed out and switched places. It was over 100 degrees in Arizona, but he was cool as a cucumber. Thanks to Tommy, at 80 mph, so was I. (Photo by Mike Maez, M2 Autophoto)

 I’m behind the steering wheel. The motor is running. My foot’s on the brake. “Put your right hand on the column,” my instructor Tommy says, addressing me as if this is the most normal thing in the entire world, a blind woman sitting next to him, about to take him for a ride in a 2010 Ford Mustang. “Pull back on the column until you hear four clicks,” he says. ”That’ll mean you’re in Drive.”

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Okay, Beth — whenever you’re ready!” Tommy is smiling. I can tell from his voice.

I lift the ball of my foot off the brake. The car inches forward. I look toward my right one last time, just to make sure Tommy is serious. “Press the pedal all the way down?”

“All the way!” Tommy exclaims, that smile still in his voice.

I floor it.

Tommy Kendall had introduced himself a half hour earlier. He’d found a seat across from me at a picnic table where we were sharing lunch with a bunch of Ford Mustang enthusiasts. Roger Keeney, the blind man who had won the contest I blogged about last week, had already driven the 2010 Mustang that morning. Journalists on hand to cover the event were encouraged to drive the new Mustang after lunch. One caveat, though: in the spirit of the occasion, we’d have to drive blindfolded. Except for me, of course. No blindfold necessary.

I wasn’t exactly dying to drive a sports car. It’d been a long, long time since I’d done anything quickly. Well, I mean, I’ve gone on roller coaster rides, sat on the back seat of motorcycles, that sort of thing. But since losing my sight, I haven’t been in control of anything faster than a guide dog. I wasn’t looking forward to the drive. But I knew I’d do it.

Losing my sight has taken many opportunities away from me. On the rare occasion that blindness gives me an opportunity I wouldn’t have had otherwise — driving a Mustang before its release date, for example — I take advantage. These “unforeseen opportunities” can help when I’m grieving my loss of sight, which I still do every once in awhile.  

I’d brought a copy of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound along with me to the Ford Proving Grounds and passed it around during lunch. This Tommy guy, whoever he was, took the book away from  the table for a while. “I wanna read this!” he said. I liked him right away. 

When conversation at the table turned to geography — everybody saying where they were from – we found out Tommy had lived in Southern California his entire life. “Well,” he added. “All but two years.” After others chimed in with how beautiful Santa Monica is, Marina del Rey, blah, blah, I finally butt in. “I’m curious — where’d you live the two years you weren’t in California?”

For one year he lived in Las Vegas. The other year, Indianapolis. Indianapolis?

”I was in a crash,” Tommy explained. There had been a mechanical failure. “I broke both feet, both ankles, both knees, both legs.” The crash happened at Watkins Glen, N.Y, but the surgeon who mended him was in Indianapolis. “I wanted to be near the surgeon while I was going through physical therapy,” he explained. The PT took a year. “People thought I’d quit racing after that,” he said. “But I got right back in.”

When Tommy casually mentioned a conversation he’d had with Paul Newman, I realized Tommy Kendall wasn’t just a race car driver. He was a terrific race car driver. From his bio:

His greatest year came in 1997, when he managed to win every single race on the schedule, except for the last two, in his Ford Mustang Cobra finishing with an almost perfect season. RACER magazine’s named Tommy Driver of the Year & Road Racer of the Year.

Lunch over, Tommy said, “Whenever you’re ready, we can go.” Without being able to see whether Tommy Kendall’s statement was directed to me, I gave him the universal sign. I pointed to my sternum. “Me?”

It was true. I’d be driving with Tommy Kendall. I pictured myself in a sports car with the likes of Paul Newman. The ride I’d been dreading all morning now sounded like fun. The temperature in Arizona that day was 103 degrees, but suddenly I felt very, very cool.

Tommy drove me out to the asphalt flat — it was 1500 feet long, 700 feet wide –so I’d get a feel for how the Mustang rides. We switched sides then, and once I was belted behind the wheel, he asked me what I’d like to do. Did I want to start slow, to get a feel for it? Go straight out, hard and fast? Did I want to try doing donuts?

“Absolutely not!” I said. He laughed. I told him I wanted to go straight out. I had enjoyed the ride with Tommy, but I wanted to get this part — where I’d be in control — over with as fast as possible.

We journalists had been put through a safety drill earlier, and Tommy went through it again. When he calls out “left,” I was supposed to turn the wheel just a few degrees in that direction. If he said “left’ again, I should turn it just a few more degrees left. “Like that?” I asked, turning the wheel 3 or 4 degrees. “Exactly!” he said. “Same with right — just a few degrees at a time.” His voice was encouraging. He assured me nothing would go wrong. “Race car drivers have big egos, you know,” he said. ”We’re all about self-preservation. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was safe.”

He did remind me, though, that if something did go wrong, he’d shout out the word, “abort!” At that point I should pull my hands off the wheel and bring my knees to my body – that way my foot would come completely off the pedals. Tommy didn’t have any controls on his side — this was just a regular 2010 Mustang convertible, it wasn’t fixed up especially so that blind drivers could give it a spin. “I can reach the parking brake,” he explained. “I’ll make the car stop if anything goes wrong. But trust me, it won’t,”

Seconds later, we were flying across the pavement.

“You’re going 40,” Tommy said. I started to smile. “You’re going 60!” he said. I started to laugh. “You’re going 80, Beth!” Tommy exclaimed. My cheeks got hot — blood was rushing to my face. It was absolutely thrilling.

“Okay,” Tommy shouted. “Brake!” I slammed on the brakes. Tires shrieked. Rubber burned. The ABS kicked in –I could feel it in my foot. The steering wheel shook in my hands.

And then, as quickly as it started, it was over. all was quiet. The car was still. So was I. Speechless. Thrilled.

“You did it, Beth!” Tommy exclaimed. “You were going 80 mph!” He was right. I did it. I put my palm up, expecting a high five. Instead, Tommy Kendall grabbed my hand and held on. A triumphant hand-to-hand embrace.

Congratulations over, Tommy asked me another question. “You wanna do donuts now?”

“Well, yeah!” I said, without one moment of hesitation. As if this was the most normal thing in the entire world, a blind woman sitting next to a race car driver, about to take him for a ride.

Scent of a Mustang

Cheryl--the proud Mustang owner--should be *in* this picture. But she was the one *taking* this terrific Polaroid instead. That's my sister Bev, me in the middle, and my sister Marilee hiding the automotive icon.

When I heard my talking computer bark out an email message from a public relations company about a Ford Mustang event, I figured it was spam. For some happy reason, though, I opened it anyway.

Since Roger Keeney, 62, of Athens, Ga., lost his sight, he’s dreamed of driving again. But being visually impaired meant that he never thought he would experience the handling of the vehicle as it takes a turn at 80 MPH or the smell of burning rubber as the engine roared. But Roger’s dream is about to come true. On May 7, Roger will live out his dream in a 2010 Ford Mustang as part of Ford’s “The ‘10 Unleashed” campaign, which is awarding 10 people an experience of a lifetime. Please join us to witness Roger’s experience and listen to him describe the drive in his own words. You will even have the opportunity to put yourself in his shoes and take the 2010 Mustang for a spin.

I called Mike over to take a look at my computer screen. He said the e-stationery and contact information looked legit. It came from Hill & Knowlton, a large and reputable agency. “The new 2010 Mustang is kind of a big deal, Beth!” he exclaimed. Mike was impressed. And a little bit jealous.

“You remember what the Mustang looked like back in the 60s?” Mike asked. If Mike had asked me what any other car in the 60s looked like, I would have been lost. But as fate would have it, my sister Cheryl bought a Mustang in 1967. My older brothers had brought cars home before, but never before had a female in our family gone out and purchased a *brand* *new* car. Not to mention something as racy as a Mustang. We were mesmerized by Cheryl’s sports car, and I still remember its lime green sheen.

A short two years later, Cheryl got married, sold the car, and my sports car enthusiast days were over. Flo was working full-time during my teen years and didn’t have much time – or energy – to teach me how to drive. My teenage friends trained me instead. I somehow managed to pass my driver’s test in 1975, God knows how. I was a bad driver when I could see. Things didn’t get better when I lost my sight.

I called the number listed on the email message and confessed all: I don’t know much about cars, and I have always thought that the driving scene in Scent of a Woman was ridiculous. Getting behind the wheel again is not on my “bucket list.” If anything, a prank like that would bring me, and those around me, closer to that proverbial kick.

No problem. They’d done a little research on me, they explained. They knew I was blind. They knew I write for magazines. And they knew I do commentaries for NPR. “We just want you to come out to Phoenix and enjoy the experience along with Roger,“ they said, apologizing for the late notice. “If you can get out here this week, we’ll be happy to make flight arrangements for you.”

Flight arrangements haven’t been set yet. Maybe I put them off with my last, less-than-enthusiastic, question. “I won’t have to drive to experience this with Roger, will I?” The answer was no. “But you’re certainly welcome to try if you’d like to!” Stay tuned.

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