Driving Lessons

A discussion with a co-worker about his son and driving lessons brought about this idea for a blog. I will start with my driving lessons. My parents did not allow me to drive until after I turned 16 and completed Drivers Ed. Since my birthday fell in June, I was not allowed to take Drivers Ed during the last term of my sophomore year. Instead, I went to summer school.


I remember that we did a little time on the simulators, but were soon out in the vehicles driving on city streets. The instructor would take 4 of us at a time. The 3 non-drivers would be in the back seat and he would sit in the passenger side front seat. He had a brake pedal on his side. One morning a group of us went out for an early drive. I was first in the drivers seat and he directed me to the interstate highway. It was morning rush hour, so traffic was bad. I remember being very nervous with so many cars on the road with me.


The instructor told me to change from the right to the left lane when safe. I checked my side vision mirror followed by checking the left side blind spot. The nearest car was probably 100' behind me so I changed lanes. The next thing I knew was the instructor had grabbed the steering wheel, and cranked it right while hitting the brakes hard. We came to a stop in the right hand shoulder with rush hour traffic speeding by us.


The instructor was also the football coach for the high school team. He proceeded to criticize my driving skills claiming that I had pulled in front of another vehicle. I was certain that my lane change was safe, but bit my tongue and took the lashing. It was embarrassing to be called out in front of the other students. As I think back, I now believe he was merely making a point. He knew that I had not done anything unsafe, but wanted to make the point to all of us that he would grab control of the car if he saw fit.


Otherwise, I passed Drivers Ed without incident and received my license in 1972. That provided the privilege of driving my dad's 1962 Chevrolet Impala station wagon. On rare occasions I was allowed to drive the good car, a 1972 Pontiac Catalina. It was my parent's first luxury cat and was equipped with a large engine. They never found out that I would occasionally do power burn outs with it. Power burn outs are done pressing the accelerator and brake simultaneously. The front brakes do not let the car accelerate, so you spin and burn the tires producing a lot of smoke. We would have contests after work on who could do the most impressive power burn out.


In 1974 I bought my first car. A 1974 Chevrolet Vega Sport, recently awarded as one of the worst 10 cars ever made. It was silver with a 4 speed manual transmission. That car brought about the next Drivers Ed class conducted by my father. Since I had never driven a car with a manual transmission, he took me to a local school parking lot and showed me the finer points of clutching and shifting. The first 30 minutes were filled with disappointment. I wondered if I would ever get the hang of driving my new car. But once I got the feel, it's like riding a bicycle - you never forget.


Drivers Ed was over for a few years. That is until Lyndy turned 15. Since she was a very responsible child, we agreed to get her a learners permit. That meant that Dad was the Drivers Ed instructor. Since Lyndy had many after school activities, we also bought her a car so that she could drive herself to and from the school functions. The car was a 1977 Oldsmobile Delta 88. We called it "the boat" since that is how it handled. The car was huge, while Lyndy was not standing only 5'4". She needed to sit on a phone book to see over the steering wheel.


We started by letting her drive her "new" car though the neighborhood on Sunday mornings, and gradually started going out onto the busier streets. A lot of time was spent in empty parking lots so she could practice parking the boat between the yellow lines without crossing them. The only incident that I can remember occurred later when Lyndy was driving everywhere that we would go together. She was waiting as the second car in line in a left turn lane. The traffic light was not a dedicated left turn signal, but rather a "left turn yield on green". The light changed and the car in front of us turned in front of oncoming traffic who honked and signaled using finger signs. Lyndy followed the car in front. The oncoming driver was shocked to see not one car pull in front of them, but 2. Once I removed my fingers from the newly formed dashboard indentions, I asked Lyndy why she turned left in front of traffic. She said "Because the guy in front of me did."


Teaching Allison to drive was much the same story. Her first car was not a boat, but instead a small Saturn - far more appropriate for a first car. I do not remember any significant events during Allison's initial Drivers Ed training. But at some point, we decided to teach her to drive a stick shift. At the time, I owned a Jeep Wrangler with a 5 speed manual transmission. We started the lessons one weekend in a vacant parking lot near our house. That was a difficult day for me. As Allison went through the normal learning process of dumping the clutch and killing the engine, restarting and repeating the process, however no progress was being made. Instead, she was getting very good at getting my Jeep to "hop". Jeeps are tough, but I began to wonder if it could survive the abuse. I was expecting to see the front or rear axle lying on the pavement. I stayed patient remembering the same experience with my father. After an hour or so, we gave up for another day.

That day never came. Allison lost interest in driving a stick shift, and I did not bring it up again. She would have learned if we had just bought her a car with a stick shift. That should have been the motivation needed to learn. She has never learned how to drive a manual transmission vehicle even though she and Jimmy owned one for several months. Maybe she should blog about it?