Licensed to Drive

I took Matt to take his driving test the other day. As I waited for my extremely nervous son and his DMV-tester to return, I watched a woman who had come in with her two young sons. The way they both sat on her lap, each hugging their own "side" of their mommy, took me back to when Matt and Mike were that small. In the flash of an instant, we are here.

I thought about how I didn't get my own license until I was 18. I didn't have access to a car as the older siblings had laid claim to them. I had plenty of friends to drive me (we always went together, anyway) almost anywhere I needed to go. I didn't really feel a burning need to get my license right away, plus many of my friends who were driving, didn't have to contend with a standard (you have to shift the gears) transmission - they had automatics. There was quite a trick to synchronizing the clutch with changing the gear.

I remember one of the first times I was going to drive home from church in the Toyota, one of the Brobst boys ran out in front of the car. I stopped in time - no problem - but when I went to go again, I had forgotten to down-shift, so (in plain view of my high school/church friends) the car started bucking like a wild bronco!
I was so embarrassed as I saw Mike Boyd pointing and laughing, as I tried to salvage whatever dignity I had left, and drove off. Mommy handled all of these lessons like a seasoned veteran of the demolition derby.

I lived in fear of the big hills (Pines at Jefferson, and the Lakeshore Extension at South Lakeshore and Curtis Lane) - people would always pull up too close behind me (on a hill, before the gear can engage you always roll backward a little, or a LOT, if you are inexperienced). If I saw that there was a car behind me, I would make a quick detour through Western Hills to wait out a time when no one would be there, but me. Eventually, I got the hang of it (the emergency brake came in handy to avoid the "rollback").

Herman and Fred taught me, in the Chevy Impala, to steer by looking at the road off in the distance, rather than immediately in front of me.

I did have a tendency to go a little bit fast. I blame Daddy and Ronnie for that.

When teaching me to drive, Daddy took me on South Lakeshore in the Opal Kadett Rallye (racing red with black stripes - for those who have never seen it). It was a FAST car. It was going 35 mph before you even stepped on the gas! Driving on the winding part of the road, down by Ark-La-Tex Landing, he instructed me to accelerate in the curves - just failed to mention decelerating in-between. Boy, could that baby handle the curves!

Ronnie took me out in their new Camero (racing yellow with black stripes - see a trend here?) to check it out. As we were going down Jolly Napier Road, Ronnie said, "See how fast it can go." I punched it. It was FAST, but he had meant for me to look at the speedometer and see the top speed, not actually try it out for myself! He kept telling me, if I got too close to the edge of the road, "You're killin' snakes, you're killin' snakes!"

We had many adventures with older-siblings driving. Linda liked to drive by the house of a boy that she liked - thinking she could get away with that. I think it was Marty's idea to shout "Danny, Linda loves you!" out the window as we cruised by. She also had the important task of driving Mommy to the hospital to have Janet! Herman would thrill us with letting go of the steering wheel, covering his eyes, and screaming, "Ahh, we're gonna hit it!", and turning off the headlights to drive by moonlight. Fred drove fast, and rocked out on Guess Who and Three Dog Night (eight track? or cassette?) tapes. Marty was a safe driver, but if I wanted her to drive by the house of a boy I liked (having forgotten the lesson that should have been learned with the "Danny incident"), she would comply, but laid on the horn to alert the inhabitants of our presence.

Having moved away by the time they were driving age, I missed out on Carl and Janet's driving adventures.

More recently, while the Texas cousins, Thomas and Grace, were visiting, I drove them all out to the mall. On the way home, I was accelerating to pass someone with Thomas screaming "Smoke 'em, Aunt Annie - Smoke 'em! Whoooo!" like I was actually speeding. It was hilarious to all of us - little did they know of my true skills (Mommy didn't call me "Annie Granatelli" for nothing).

Matt came back into the DMV with a huge smile and big thumbs-up. He passed it! Yesterday, he and Mike took a solo drive to the gas station outside the neighborhood. Wasn't it only yesterday they were on an adventure to ride their bikes "all the way" there?