To do it right required care and patience over a period of months, during a dozen or so rides home. The first time she would be very nice, her book in her lap, and not speak unless asked a direct question. If asked a question, it was usually about the book or how’s school. Somehow, then, in answering-telling her grade in school or describing the book, which seemed pretty deep for a young girl-she would let him know she was going on seventeen. During the next several rides home she would be increasingly more at ease, friendly, outgoing, sincere; she would come off as a serious reader, a bright girl interested in what was going on in the world, especially the teenage world with its changing fads and attitudes. Sometimes the discussion was so interesting they would arrive at Nancy’s house and, parked in the drive, continue talking for another ten or fifteen minutes. Sooner or later then, usually between the fifth and eighth ride home, talking as they pulled into the drive, she would zap him.

It would be an apparently innocent question, part of their conversation. Like: “Do you think it’s all right for teen-agers to make out?” He would act casual and ask her to define making out and she would say: “You know, parked somewhere.”

“Well, if you’re just parked, listening to the radio-”

“Of course I mean if they’re in love, or if they feel at least a strong physical attraction.”

“You wonder if it’s all right for them to do a little smooching?”

“Uh-huh, not necessarily going all the way or sexing around too much, but maybe frenching and letting him touch you, you know, here.”

Then the timing. Just as he said, “Well-” she would look at her watch and say, “Oh my gosh, I’d better get in!” And with a thanks-a-lot, slam the door in his face.

Then the next time steer the conversation or wait to see if he steered it to making out-or smooching or necking, as he called it. If he didn’t she would move in quickly and zap him again.