I was watching an add on T.V. the other day, it was to advertise a car, but was about a dad showing his kids how to drive. When I was 18 there was no driver training, at least in my town. Our parents or friends showed us how to drive. My father got the job with me. Of course, we had only owned a station wagon for 3 or 4 years and that was our first and only family car, so my father was a little cautious about his oldest daughter learning to drive in their only vehicle.
We started in the drive way going back and forth, showing me how to shift, back up, and hit the brake. Once I was proficient in the driveway, I got to go out on the street, then down into town to the testing area. It makes me laugh every time I remember him yelling, “Hit the brake, hit the brake, watch out for that car.” He also made me back into parking spaces on the main street until I got parking down perfectly with that old station wagon. I’m sure there were other things he got excited about while I was driving, but it is just a really nice memory of being with and spending time with my father, whom died over ten years ago.
Oh, I did get my license first time out. Not only that, he and my mother decided to take a trip to Canada on the day I was to take my driving test. I had to take the neighbor’s car, which was an automatic, not standard like what I learned on. The neighbor gave me a crash course on how to drive it, just before they brought me down to the Testing Station. I did have to back into a parking space, but it was an empty parking lot at the court house, and I aced the test. I still thank my father for being such a good teacher.
Thanks Dad. I love you.