Drivin’ and Dreamin’

Waist High’s post about her Lovely Teenaged Daughter’s newly acquired license and her own ‘F’ in Drivers Ed made me remember my own early driving days.

My parents had a tradition of giving each of their children a car for their 16th birthday. My brother received the ’57 Chevy Bel Aire that had been in our family for years. That might seem cool now, but it was not 1975. He quickly sold it and bought something newer – a Toyota Corona. (No – not a Corolla – they actually had a car called a Corona back then.) My sister was gifted with a 1976 Chevy Nova, which had previously been owned by our Great Aunt Ethel. Being less interested in cars and coolness, my sister drove the car until she was married, which coincidentally, was just a year before I turned 16. The car was parked on the street and it was a given that it would be my car next.

I wasn’t thrilled about the Nova, (my friends and I called it “The Pickle”) but I was excited about driving. So excited, in fact, that I decided I could not wait. One day while my parents were away, I helped myself to the car keys. I was 15 years old and had never been behind the wheel of car. These facts did not deter me. After making my way (jerking and berking down the streets) to my friend’s house I convinced her to take a joy ride with me. Naturally, we decided to cruise by the ol’ high school. On the way to West, I noticed the car was low on gas, so I pulled into Larson’s on Valhalla Drive. There were already a couple of cars at the pumps, so I had no choice (or so I thought) but to back up while trying to maneuver left around the island. Why in the world I thought I could do this is beyond me. I ended up with the rear, driver’s side tire over a rather large cement curb guarding a flowerbed, with the undercarriage of my car stuck firmly in place.

After "freaking out" for a few minutes I went inside to solicit help. A few men who had witnessed the calamity and the convenience store employee all agreed to investigate. Their final decision was that the car was hopelessly stuck and a tow truck would have to be called. Suddenly the seriousness, and the enormity of the trouble I would be in, struck me. All I could think of was "Oh, hell no!" With great determination and abject fear, I jumped back behind the wheel and hit the gas with all the weight my tiny frame could muster. Laughing, shrieking, and cringing in a way only a teenage girl is capable of, I tore off of that curb and out of that parking lot with sparks flying behind.

Needless to say, I returned home shortly there after and NEVER tired to "steal my car" again. But, I did pass my diver’s test on the very first try.