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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.
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One Way to Learn to Drive!
One way to learn to drive is just, “Do it”. What I mean by that is the following:
1957 Plymouth I was fifteen, not even old enough to have a driver’s license. If you can remember way back to 1959 or so, I was sitting close to my boyfriend, now husband, a/k/a Art. You see, in those days there was no consul to separate the seats. We were in the country, him driving with his arm around my shoulders, and me, of course, snuggling up close to him, as was the usual position for a boyfriend and girlfriend. He was handling the gas, I was to handle the steering.
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No Worries
It was June 1981. I was more excited than nervous. The next day, I was going to the Department of Motor Vehicles for the road test for my driver’s permit. It was dark out when dad and I drove out of town to the DMV to practice the skills I would be demonstrating the next day. I pulled out of the parking lot at the same time that people were entering the local racetrack for an event. Traffic was heavy for our small rural town. I took a left onto the highway and was unaware of the cars around me. I turned into the far lane, instead of the closest lane. Within one minute of my practice, I had shown my dad that I was NOT ready to drive the family care independently and safely. -
Late Bloomer
1957 Oldsmobile I was a late bloomer. When I was in High School, everyone was chomping at the bit to learn to drive and to get their licenses. I’ve always been a late bloomer. I knew Dad wouldn’t let me drive his car and I didn’t have another car to drive so I was in no hurry to learn.
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Drive Me Home
When I first was learning to drive, I remember that mom was at work, so Lisa got the privilege of taking me to the DMV for my temps. After I left the building, Lisa threw me the keys and said “Ok – drive me home.”