Driving Inhibitions
Picture this, I was sixteen, just after graduating from high school. Now, when you reach the ripe old age of sixteen, what is the first thing most teenagers are hell bent on doing? Getting their driver’s license, of course.
To say I was terrified to attempt this next feat would be an understatement. First of all, I needed a car. The family car was a gift passed down from my dad’s father to my father. This vehicle was also taken out of the garage and used exclusively for personal purposes, as he drove a company car for work. This created a problem as he wouldn’t let anyone drive his beloved garage car, and consequently left me without a vehicle to practice driving on. Thankfully, I had a boyfriend who had a car, a very nice vehicle, I might say, a big black Plymouth (with wings). Since I know very little about cars, I don’t remember what year it was, but it became my wheels during the driver’s license training period.
Now, to say I was terrified to take the test is an understatement. I was inhibited. Taking the written test was a breeze. Now, the behind the wheel with an officer of the law in the car with me, observing my every move, made me hyperventilate.
My teacher to drive was my boyfriend, Art, and when and if I got my license, he had rules. No more than one person in the car, letting him know when and where I was at all times with his car, no cruising down front street, things like that. Who needed another father!
I had several slight mishaps that made me a little punchy. The first one was that I was sitting practically on Art’s lap, driving. I was steering, and he was regulating the gas. We were out in the country, came up upon another car, and he said I should pass the car. No one told me how to pass, so I pulled out and turned right into the other vehicle, crunching both cars’ bumpers. Then, another time, I had my temps and was driving Art’s car. He told me to turn to go down the alleyway behind the downtown stores in Beaver Dam. Well, I turned into the alley, but instead of slowing down by stepping on the brakes, I stepped on the accelerator, and we went flying down the alley, barely missing several buildings in the process. Interesting language was used by Art at that time.
Being the procrastinator that I am, I kept putting off the main driver’s test. So, at the threat of Art, who said that I needed to get my license asap, as he was going to put glass packs on the vehicle that I would be taking the test on, and would not be able to take the test on his car with those on. So, on one of the snowiest, slipperiest days of the week, when we didn’t have school, I talked a neighbor into taking me to get my license. We must have driven around town for two hours before I got up to go to the DMV and wait my turn for the doom I anticipated.
Hallelujah, I made it on the first try, was thrilled beyond measure, and I can say in the sixty-five years of my driving, I have never had an accident, and only one speeding ticket. I guess being a little inhibited didn’t hurt in the long run.
Knock on Wood
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