Learning to Drive – Memorable High School Experience

Do you remember learning how to drive? Honestly, it’s not like I think about it often but my high school best friend and I started reminiscing about our many driving mishaps and let’s just say we are both lucky to be alive today. Our hilarious stories brought me back to what has to be one of the most memorable experiences of my life, having my dad teach me to drive.

I actually did not think it was going to be a big deal as my dad was a pretty patient albeit direct and somewhat emotionless man. I mean that in a good way in that not much ruffled his feathers. What I did not figure into the equation was learning how to drive a stick shift was going to impede my lesson.   Yes, a stick shift. My dad after being fed up with American cars. Remember the rolling death trap, the Ford Pinto, we had one. My dad bought what he considered to be the safest car on the market, the Volvo. And because he was a no frills kind of guy, he chose one that had a stick shift because it was cheaper.  We are lucky he bought a car with a cassette radio (wow, I am dating myself.)

The day of lesson was the perfect day to learn to drive; it was warm spring day with bright blue skies. I could only think in my youthful hubris, independence from my parents. No more having my parents pick me up from friend’s houses or taking me to the mall or movies. I would be able to do it myself.

As I sat in our car, my father reviewed all mechanics of the dashboard, and of course, the most important gadgets of all, the pedals and the stick shift.  I was so excited that it never occurred to me that this was going to be difficult.

Well, who knew that you had to be coordinated to manage three pedals? I slowly moved back out of the garage and don’t ask me why I pushed the gas just a little too hard and literally backed out so far that I crossed the street and ran over the neighbor’s mail box. Yikes! My dad’s reaction. Nothing. Nada.

He calmly got out of the car and went to talk to our neighbor. While they talked, I was sweating bullets just waiting for the yelling when he returned. The neighbor nodded at my dad and then they both smiled. Huh!!

My dad calmly got in the car and said, “let’s go. “ Any other rationale person would have stopped and do the lesson another day but not my dad. This was on the agenda for the day and that was it, no rescheduling for him.

Side note about why the neighbor seemed acted so non- chalant about the loss of his mailbox. I ran into his daughter during her summer break  and she told me that driving experience was so bad that after one lesson where her dad yelled at her for every little thing that she ended up with private lessons because she was so traumatized from the incident.

So we drove around the neighborhood, went to the shopping center where I learned to park in a parking lot.  Although I do remember my dad’s words like it was yesterday, “Park there and I don’t hit that Mercedes!” No pressure for a 16 year old.  Lucky in Virginia parallel parking was not part of the test because I am sure I would have not survived that lesson.

So as I was feeling confident and thinking hey, this is a piece of cake as we headed home.

The last part of the driving lesson was to park the car in the garage.  You know where I am going with this, right. Okay I did not hit the garage door but barely made it in the garage without scraping the car entire left side and ripping the railing off the garage door entrance.

Needless to say that my dad was none too happy that he had to call the garage door company but, of course, after he went to Home Depot to buy our neighbor a new mailbox.

And what’s funny is that four years later, my sister had her driving lesson and ran over that same mailbox. The neighbor later cemented the mailbox down into the ground in anticipation of my brother learning to drive.