I’ve
been helping to lead a Bible study over the last few weeks and at our last study,
we all started talking about when we learned to drive. Oh, the stories the
girls had about their parents working with them, teaching them to handle icy
roads and how to not overcorrect if they started to run off the road.
Learning
to drive usually provides the best stories, so when you think about preserving
your story, don’t skip over it!
Who taught you to
drive?
What was your favorite
part?
What was your least
favorite part?
Did you pass the test
on the first try?
What was your first
car?
What was the most
embarrassing thing that happened as you learned to drive?
My
parents were consummate rule followers, so if you didn’t have a license, you
didn’t go out on the road to drive. About a week before I started drivers ed,
Dad took me to the church parking lot, and that was the first time I had ever
been behind a wheel – any wheel – in my life. I’d never driven a golf
cart, a lawn mower, or anything else. We carefully and slowly made our way
around the parking lot while I got the feel of the gas and the brake and what
it felt like to turn the wheel around a corner.
I
thought I was ready.
I
was wrong.
Our
school offered drivers ed during the summer, so I was already a little
irritated about loss of sleep. Our classes took place on the second floor of
the building – which wasn’t air conditioned – and we dripped sweat for hours
while we watched videos and listened to the animated instructor. Eventually it
was time to get in the car and try these skills for ourselves.
We
always had the same driving instructor and the same group of students. My car
had three students, but I only remember one of the other two in there. When we
got in the car the first day, the instructor asked us how many of us had driven
before. Two other hands shot up. I tentatively held up mine. Did driving once
in the church parking lot count?
It
didn’t. I learned this when I turned the first corner and drove straight up on
the curb. The instructor yelled out a cry that was probably half warning and
half fear for his life. From that moment on, he never let go of gripping his
seat, kept his foot on the emergency brake, and never stopped sweating when I
was behind the wheel.
It
was fair.
I
hated driving. I hated it that it started badly and never got better. I wasn’t
good at this driving thing and not a single experience I had behind the wheel
made it any better. I did it all wrong. I got in trouble for speeding up
through yellow lights, entering a parking space too quickly, and for the way I
both entered and exited the interstate.
I
got a high enough grade in the classroom portion of drivers ed that I qualified
for a waiver on the driving test when it was time to get my license. As long as
I secured my license within 30 days of turning 16, the waiver held. Unfortunately,
I had no desire to get my license. All my friends took days off school to get
theirs on the first possible day after their birthdays. I am pretty sure my mom
put me in the car and drove me to the BMV the day before that waiver expired. I
passed the written test and they issued me a license.
I’ll
admit it was handy to drive myself to and from babysitting jobs and schools.
But I am pretty sure it was about another 7 or 8 years before I drove on an
interstate again. (And I still don’t love them.)
My
first car was a Ford Escort. I named him Lloyd. I drove him all the way through
high school, college, and then my parents signed him over to me to trade in for
my first grown-up car!
So
that was my story! What was yours?
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