Autism Vox

Down the Up Ramp: On seeing things differently

by Kristina Chew, PhD on July 26th, 2008

“No” was Charlie’s not unsurprising response—-with his eyebrows (no other word describes it) furrowed—-when I told him we’d have to drive the bluish Mercury Milan parked across the condo parking lot. Jim had rented it late Thursday night at Newark airport and I’m sure Charlie had paid it no attention when he got on the bus Friday morning. Now he was standing beside the black car, whose right rear tire was a small spare with a yellow sticker and looking forlorn. I tried to find words to explain: “It has a flat tire—the tire’s broken” (what in the world was I saying? “broken tire” sounds like those ragged black strips from a semi’s recap tires strewn on the shoulder of the Interstate). “Remember how we got stuck in the mall parking lot yesterday and the man came and pumped the back of the car up?” “We actually need to get ALL new tires…..”

I tried to avoid saying that the car itself was “broken” as that word has difficult associations for Charlie. There was a time when he ripped, or tried to rip, his favorite photos and then any photo in half, and then cried. I spent a lot of time taping the photos back up and he’d be happy for awhile, and then tear them up again. I certainly didn’t want him to think we’d never use the black car again and tried to offer cheerful reasons for why the rental car would be fun. (For one thing, it’s smaller than our black car, not a bad thing in these times of big ol’ dream cars being put out to pasture, so more driving to more places is theoretically possible.)

I figured that Charlie would be hesitant about the rental car. Since we said good bye to the green car last January, it’s been black car full time and we spend a good amount of time in the car (which often feels like an extension of our condo). The black car is another station wagon and I suspect that Charlie’s used to being able to see the contents of the trunk all the way out the back window, vs. what a mid-sized sedan offers. Throw in that rental car smell and you’ve got something very unfamiliar, for a boy who needs a goodly amount of routine and repetition (yes, his teacher was back—didn’t get jury duty—and yes, he had a better day).

Charlie did eventually get into the blue rental car. Despite the heat, he pulled on his blue hooded sweatshirt and clamped his hands over his head as we drove into Jersey City. We were moving smartly until we went up the on ramp to the Pulaski Skyway. Charlie always looks around with interest as we drive it, as (to his right and left) are spectacular views of lots filled with cars just shipped in, containers stacked into pyramid-like structures, power plant smoke stacks, the Passaic and then the Hackensack Rivers, a correctional facility. If you’re driving east, straight ahead is the Manhattan skyline with the Empire State Building at the center. If you’re driving west, this is what it’s like.

Late afternoon on Friday we got a good long look at that view. The Skyway has no shoulder and two lanes going each way, separated by a concrete divider, and it’s 3 1/2 miles long. So if you can get into an accident, you just have to stay where you are because, aside from thin air, there’s no place to go. As drove up, the westbound lanes were suddenly empty with a lone police car and one black sedan. We went further—Charlie leaning on the windowsill, groggy (he’d had a fabulous swim, with the pool all to himself and me)—and saw cars with more than dents, a tow truck, more police, a firetruck. And then, endless lines of cars stopped and people standing around and talking on their cell phones, talking to each other, and leaning on the Skyway’s steel sides and taking in the view from a place where one normally only drives at 70 mph. There was a certain festive air to the whole scene.

We drove very carefully down our exit ramp at Broadway to Routes 1 & 9 in Jersey City. Carefully, because, once a driver on the on-ramp realized that traffic was at a standstill on the skyway, he or she tried to turn around on the narrow 2-lane ramp and (consequently) narrowly missing us cars going down.

Beneath his hood, Charlie’s eyes were wide open at such strange sights: People standing on the Skyway and going down the up-ramp (if you can’t drive, might as well get out and admire the Meadowlands below and Manhattan to the east).

The rest of the evening was pleasant, weather-wise and otherwise. We took the PATH train and subway in; met Jim; ate a lot of dinner; had dessert and left crumbs all over the carpet in Jim’s office. We took the subway and PATH home, and then drove over the Skyway fast, all traces of the accident, and the lines of onlookers, gone.

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POSTED IN: New Jersey, new york