"Move Over! We're Going Home!"

I know things have vastly changed in the world of driving since I first got behind the wheel of a car.  I'm so far removed from beginning drivers but I know that they stepped up the requirements to get a license...and that's a good thing.

Back in the 60's ("again, with the going back in time?") getting your driver's license was THE most important thing to a 16 year old.  Having that piece of paper represented the freedom of getting out on your own...It meant trust...that your parents would LET you get out on your own (and come back) and responsibility...that you'd take care of the car, yourself and your passengers.  But before all of that, there had to be "Driver's Training".

For us, it consisted of classroom instruction, watching a gory film (I think it was entitled "Last Prom")  about the dangers of not taking your driving responsibilities seriously, and then you got your "temps", the step before you got your real license.  We were taken out, as a group, to drive  with an instructor, who was equipped with a specially outfitted car (a brake on the passenger's side) and an extra bit of human courage.  Tough job - I know.  Hubby was a driver's ed instructor, to supplement his income as a teacher.  He's very fond of saying that the reason I suck at driving is because I never had him as an instructor. Whateverrrr!)  Anyway, we 16 year olds were on our way!

We were encouraged to do extra driving with our parents to get ready for the big driving test.  Now, my Dad was a patient man, seldom raised his voice, but for a moment in time, I nearly "drove" him to the brink!

On a Sunday afternoon, he thought it was a good idea to go to a local college campus and use their parking lot to practice my driving....show him what I could do.  That practice run was in an old Mercury Comet, with a standard transmission...you know...the kind you have to shift.  No problem..

It was a cold day and I guess that's why Dad didn't want to turn the old car all the way off.  He told me to slide over and put my feet on the brake and the clutch while he walked over to the passenger seat.  Good enough plan for me.

I've tried to figure it out, for years...Maybe youthful inquisitiveness?  Stupid carelessness?  I don't know why but I took my feet off both pedals.  This caused the car to lunge forward, almost hitting my Dad, while he was making his way to the passenger side of the car.  With that, he flew back around to the driver's side, his face the reddest I'd ever seen!  The window was opened just a crack but it was wide enough for me to hear him yell,  "Move over!  We're going home!"  As if the red face and bulging neck vein wasn't enough for me to get the message...

We returned home in silence, Dad  relayed to Mom my stupid move and a swift call to a local driver's ed instructor was made.  I finished my training with "Benny" and passed the test on the first try....something that I'm sure shocked Old Dad.

Through the years, "my knuckleheaded move" ( his words, not mine)  was mentioned.  Dad would smile and still question "what was I thinking?"  I still don't know but I DO know this.  I never wanted to see that expression on the old man's face again.  And I didn't....okay, I did...a few more times... But that's another blog.