Learning to Drive
Before I start talking about the several loves of my life, my vehicles, I thought I should first write about the birth of me as a driver & the trials of my driver's education.
My first memory of "driving" a car was when I was a wee tot living in Florida. There was a man that had made the acquaintance of my mom & dad that had lost his little girl. I had to ask my mom about him just recently because I had a vague memory of a short, older man in a baby blue 70s-style leisure suit. Mom couldn't remember his name, but I think it was Charles. I'm not sure how he met my parents, but he saw me & Mom said he actually started crying. He visited several times & brought me small gifts & one time he was permitted to take me out for a drive. Obviously this is before the era of widely publicized cases of kidnapping and molesting children or else no parent in their right mind would've let some crying old man take their tiny daughter out by himself. But, I can honestly say his reasons must've been pure because I have no bad memories of him, just the gift of a toy piano, long gone, and the first time I was ever set behind a wheel. He took me up on his lap & put my little hands on the steering wheel & said, "Now you're driving!" And then he must've drove me back to the baitshop that my dad owned.
The next time was when I was 13 years old. We were wild children & thought nothing of roaming five or ten miles from home whether on foot or on bikes. Again, before the days of parents freaking out that someone's going to steal their kid - Mom always said that if I had been born 30 years later the authorities would be after her in no time if she let me run the same way she did back then. But that's another story.
My best friend Paula lived in a slummy old house on a golf course way out in the country. Somehow she, or her mom, had made the aquaintance of various people down the road. One of these was a redneck fellow who let us throw aerosol cans into his fire while he drank beer. He also had a velvet Elvis painting on the wall which I admired. But, he had a nice mid-80s Monte Carlo - I had always lusted after cars & Montes were towards the top of my list - that we somehow managed to convince him to let ME drive, telling him I was 16. I remember him squinting at me through Natty Light bleared eyes and making me promise I was 16. With that beautiful car in the driveway & the potential for me to drive it, I lied. Several minutes later Paula & I were cruising down that back country road in the dark, giggling & peering over the dashboard at the dark road ahead. We only went as far as the lane to the golf course about 2 miles away before returning with the car safe & sound, but I was pumped. I was in love with driving.
I know there must've been a couple other times but those are my two most memorable - the first time touching a steering wheel while the car was in motion & the first time ever driving without adult supervision.
As soon as I was old enough to get my permit, my parents, tired of driving me around, encouraged - no, demanded - that I get it right away so I'd leave them alone. I was just as eager so, at 15 1/2 years old, I got my permit. I'm not sure how it is in other states, maybe the same, but in Ohio you can get your permit & drive as long as you have a licensed driver accompanying you. This wasn't a huge deal since I had older friends with licenses & every so often I could coerce a parent into riding with me. When no one would, I just didn't drive. I was enrolled into a driver's ed school & sat through the boring training videos. Lou dutifully drove me to & picked me up from the classes.
One night after we were excused, I found Lou waiting at the curb for me in his big blue work van as usual. He stepped down from his side & said, "I've had quite a few - you should probably drive." See, this is how he spent the time for the hour that I was in class - at the bar down the street. I was quite excited. I climbed into the driver's seat & fired 'er up. And drove the 15 miles home with Lou drinking a beer next to me.
The next class session, the instructor happened to ask if any of us had ever driven before. Most of us raised our hands in a bored sort of way. Instructor singled me out & said, "When was your last time?" So, in all honesty, I had to say, "Just the other night after class - I drove home!" I'm not sure where he was headed with this line of questioning, but he seemed taken aback - I may not've had my permit quite at this point. "Why were you driving?" he questioned. "Well, because my dad (meh - he basically is a dad to me) had a few too many at the bar while he was waiting & figured it would be safer if I drove home." After a strange look he ceased the interrogation.
As the second phase of my driver's education, I was set up with a man named Larry who was to teach me the hands-on methods of driving. He took me out in several situations - on the highway, after dark, and then we drove into Sidney, which is a couple counties away. On the way home, he pulled into a gas station & told me to "fill 'er up". He went inside to get us sodas & a sandwich. I looked at the pump. Never, in all of my 15 or so years, had I pumped gas. Strange? You bet! But, I couldn't very well admit it! "You can figure this out," I told myself. "You are smart & mechanically inclined." By the time Larry returned to the car, I was pumping gas like an old pro. I imagine he probably stood inside the station & had a good laugh while watching me stare at the pump & then carefully read directions, but he never said as much.
On the way back we took a pleasingly winding route that I still enjoy driving. He handed me the pop, opened. I took a swig & put it in the cupholder. Then he handed me the sandwich & said I had to learn to eat while driving so I'd better do it with him. "But isn't it technically illegal to eat & drive?" I inquired, thinking back on the things covered in class. He replied, "That may be - but who pays attention to that? A cop is NOT going to pull you over for eating." I shrugged & thought, "How'd I get THIS guy?" because I thought he was pretty damn cool. I ate the sandwich.
A little ways down the road we started to creep up on a little old lady driving way under the speed limit. "Now's as good a time as any to learn to pass - gun it!" Larry instructed. I liked him more & more by the minute. I obediently stomped my foot on the gas pedal & roared around her, sparing a glance at Larry. Apparently he hadn't expected his order to be taken so literally, "Okay - you can take 'er back down a notch now." Again, I obeyed, but with a little sadness. Speed is fun.
He was immensely pleased with my driving prowess. I stopped well, went well, I could pass old ladies, eat & drink & more. Then came the cones. Those stupid orange cones set up in a geometric pattern to taunt young drivers with their limited ability. I pulled forward through them with no problem, of course. Backwards? A whole other story. After several attempts that left a cone or two dragging under the car, Larry told me the bad news. If I couldn't get back through the cones without knocking them down, I wouldn't pass my test. And he had had SO much hope for me.
I went home & relayed this opinion to my stepdad. The possibility that I might not get my license & he & Mom would still be forced to chauffeur me around was grim. He promptly took me out, in that same old ginormous work van, and found the narrowest, curviest, most forlorn back country road, and made me back down it. And again. And then again. And one more time. The whole time he sat next to me, not blinking an eye when I ran down into the ditch or narrowly missed clipping someone's mailbox. Also was the ever-present can of Miller Lite. By the time he finished with me, I could use those side mirrors like nobody's business & I could drive in reverse all the way down that road. I told him he missed his calling as a driving instructor.
At the next in-car lesson, Larry greeted me with a suspicious look, probably thinking we were both wasting our time. He took me to the cones. I pulled the Lumina through them and then backed up. The cones were all still standing. Larry goggled at me and asked if I was the same student from the other night. "Do that again!" he ordered. I did. He slapped his thigh & hooted in delight. "Where did you learn to do this all the sudden?" I explained. He was thrilled.
The time for the test rolled around & I drove out to the county armory to take the written test which was almost embarrassingly easy. When taking your license test, you have to bring your own car. I brought Stacey's mom's Mustang (which later became Stacey's) because my parents owned a longggggggg Lincoln Town Car & that big van - thinking back, I should've tried the van after my training in it. Anyway. After the written test, I followed the exam woman out to the car & performed the driving portion. Everything was going smoothly until she instructed me to parallel park. Uh oh. Larry never covered this key maneuver. I relaxed. I lined it up. I popped that little car into the spot like I totally knew what I was doing. Passed the test with flying colors.
Several months later I read that Larry had been picked up for D.U.I. & was no longer allowed to teach driving. I was sad. As far as I was concerned, especially after hearing tales of some of my friends' instructors, he was the best driving instructor I could've ever had.
My first memory of "driving" a car was when I was a wee tot living in Florida. There was a man that had made the acquaintance of my mom & dad that had lost his little girl. I had to ask my mom about him just recently because I had a vague memory of a short, older man in a baby blue 70s-style leisure suit. Mom couldn't remember his name, but I think it was Charles. I'm not sure how he met my parents, but he saw me & Mom said he actually started crying. He visited several times & brought me small gifts & one time he was permitted to take me out for a drive. Obviously this is before the era of widely publicized cases of kidnapping and molesting children or else no parent in their right mind would've let some crying old man take their tiny daughter out by himself. But, I can honestly say his reasons must've been pure because I have no bad memories of him, just the gift of a toy piano, long gone, and the first time I was ever set behind a wheel. He took me up on his lap & put my little hands on the steering wheel & said, "Now you're driving!" And then he must've drove me back to the baitshop that my dad owned.
The next time was when I was 13 years old. We were wild children & thought nothing of roaming five or ten miles from home whether on foot or on bikes. Again, before the days of parents freaking out that someone's going to steal their kid - Mom always said that if I had been born 30 years later the authorities would be after her in no time if she let me run the same way she did back then. But that's another story.
My best friend Paula lived in a slummy old house on a golf course way out in the country. Somehow she, or her mom, had made the aquaintance of various people down the road. One of these was a redneck fellow who let us throw aerosol cans into his fire while he drank beer. He also had a velvet Elvis painting on the wall which I admired. But, he had a nice mid-80s Monte Carlo - I had always lusted after cars & Montes were towards the top of my list - that we somehow managed to convince him to let ME drive, telling him I was 16. I remember him squinting at me through Natty Light bleared eyes and making me promise I was 16. With that beautiful car in the driveway & the potential for me to drive it, I lied. Several minutes later Paula & I were cruising down that back country road in the dark, giggling & peering over the dashboard at the dark road ahead. We only went as far as the lane to the golf course about 2 miles away before returning with the car safe & sound, but I was pumped. I was in love with driving.
I know there must've been a couple other times but those are my two most memorable - the first time touching a steering wheel while the car was in motion & the first time ever driving without adult supervision.
As soon as I was old enough to get my permit, my parents, tired of driving me around, encouraged - no, demanded - that I get it right away so I'd leave them alone. I was just as eager so, at 15 1/2 years old, I got my permit. I'm not sure how it is in other states, maybe the same, but in Ohio you can get your permit & drive as long as you have a licensed driver accompanying you. This wasn't a huge deal since I had older friends with licenses & every so often I could coerce a parent into riding with me. When no one would, I just didn't drive. I was enrolled into a driver's ed school & sat through the boring training videos. Lou dutifully drove me to & picked me up from the classes.
One night after we were excused, I found Lou waiting at the curb for me in his big blue work van as usual. He stepped down from his side & said, "I've had quite a few - you should probably drive." See, this is how he spent the time for the hour that I was in class - at the bar down the street. I was quite excited. I climbed into the driver's seat & fired 'er up. And drove the 15 miles home with Lou drinking a beer next to me.
The next class session, the instructor happened to ask if any of us had ever driven before. Most of us raised our hands in a bored sort of way. Instructor singled me out & said, "When was your last time?" So, in all honesty, I had to say, "Just the other night after class - I drove home!" I'm not sure where he was headed with this line of questioning, but he seemed taken aback - I may not've had my permit quite at this point. "Why were you driving?" he questioned. "Well, because my dad (meh - he basically is a dad to me) had a few too many at the bar while he was waiting & figured it would be safer if I drove home." After a strange look he ceased the interrogation.
As the second phase of my driver's education, I was set up with a man named Larry who was to teach me the hands-on methods of driving. He took me out in several situations - on the highway, after dark, and then we drove into Sidney, which is a couple counties away. On the way home, he pulled into a gas station & told me to "fill 'er up". He went inside to get us sodas & a sandwich. I looked at the pump. Never, in all of my 15 or so years, had I pumped gas. Strange? You bet! But, I couldn't very well admit it! "You can figure this out," I told myself. "You are smart & mechanically inclined." By the time Larry returned to the car, I was pumping gas like an old pro. I imagine he probably stood inside the station & had a good laugh while watching me stare at the pump & then carefully read directions, but he never said as much.
On the way back we took a pleasingly winding route that I still enjoy driving. He handed me the pop, opened. I took a swig & put it in the cupholder. Then he handed me the sandwich & said I had to learn to eat while driving so I'd better do it with him. "But isn't it technically illegal to eat & drive?" I inquired, thinking back on the things covered in class. He replied, "That may be - but who pays attention to that? A cop is NOT going to pull you over for eating." I shrugged & thought, "How'd I get THIS guy?" because I thought he was pretty damn cool. I ate the sandwich.
A little ways down the road we started to creep up on a little old lady driving way under the speed limit. "Now's as good a time as any to learn to pass - gun it!" Larry instructed. I liked him more & more by the minute. I obediently stomped my foot on the gas pedal & roared around her, sparing a glance at Larry. Apparently he hadn't expected his order to be taken so literally, "Okay - you can take 'er back down a notch now." Again, I obeyed, but with a little sadness. Speed is fun.
He was immensely pleased with my driving prowess. I stopped well, went well, I could pass old ladies, eat & drink & more. Then came the cones. Those stupid orange cones set up in a geometric pattern to taunt young drivers with their limited ability. I pulled forward through them with no problem, of course. Backwards? A whole other story. After several attempts that left a cone or two dragging under the car, Larry told me the bad news. If I couldn't get back through the cones without knocking them down, I wouldn't pass my test. And he had had SO much hope for me.
I went home & relayed this opinion to my stepdad. The possibility that I might not get my license & he & Mom would still be forced to chauffeur me around was grim. He promptly took me out, in that same old ginormous work van, and found the narrowest, curviest, most forlorn back country road, and made me back down it. And again. And then again. And one more time. The whole time he sat next to me, not blinking an eye when I ran down into the ditch or narrowly missed clipping someone's mailbox. Also was the ever-present can of Miller Lite. By the time he finished with me, I could use those side mirrors like nobody's business & I could drive in reverse all the way down that road. I told him he missed his calling as a driving instructor.
At the next in-car lesson, Larry greeted me with a suspicious look, probably thinking we were both wasting our time. He took me to the cones. I pulled the Lumina through them and then backed up. The cones were all still standing. Larry goggled at me and asked if I was the same student from the other night. "Do that again!" he ordered. I did. He slapped his thigh & hooted in delight. "Where did you learn to do this all the sudden?" I explained. He was thrilled.
The time for the test rolled around & I drove out to the county armory to take the written test which was almost embarrassingly easy. When taking your license test, you have to bring your own car. I brought Stacey's mom's Mustang (which later became Stacey's) because my parents owned a longggggggg Lincoln Town Car & that big van - thinking back, I should've tried the van after my training in it. Anyway. After the written test, I followed the exam woman out to the car & performed the driving portion. Everything was going smoothly until she instructed me to parallel park. Uh oh. Larry never covered this key maneuver. I relaxed. I lined it up. I popped that little car into the spot like I totally knew what I was doing. Passed the test with flying colors.
Several months later I read that Larry had been picked up for D.U.I. & was no longer allowed to teach driving. I was sad. As far as I was concerned, especially after hearing tales of some of my friends' instructors, he was the best driving instructor I could've ever had.
posted by RCSure | 1:00 PM
2 Comments:
My Dad only took me driving once. I remember driving so close to the edge of the road that the tall grasses and weeds growing alongside the road brushed the passenger door mirror. He was patient with me, pointed out a few mistakes, and when we got home I remember him saying "you got so close to the mailboxes that I could read everyone's mail." That's my Dad. He opened a beer afterwards. :)
He must have decided then that what I needed, or rather what he needed instead, was for me to take driving classes with someone else. I don't remember the lady's name, just that her car didn't have power steering and I never could parallel park it without knocking over at least one of the barrels she set up.
I'm so glad I never have to learn how to drive again. hehe
driving is fun, my brother taught me to drive his hatch back pinto in a cemetary when i was 11! hehe. by the way, olive and sasha are great together. i think sasha just wanted to be the big dog.
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