At the end of last year, blogger extraordinaire, Ginger Calem, blogged about memories of her first car. There were many responses to that post, one of which was mine. (See http://www.gingercalem.wordpress.com). I’ve been thinking about that post ever since and those thoughts were the brain child of this month’s blog topic.
When I got my first car, I had my driver’s license and had been driving independently for over a year. I learned to drive on my parents’ Plymouth Volare. I know, you’re all insanely jealous, but alas, we did live in the lap of luxury so we could afford those extra little creature comforts. (Yeah right.) But, that’s not the real issue I’m discussing here. My first car was a rebuilt 1969 Volkswagen beetle. It was being used by our neighbors as a chicken feed storage bin and was infested with cobwebs and black widow spiders when we towed the thing home with 4 flat tires and a broken windshield.
This whole dream car thing started when my family and I took a little camping trip along the Northern California coast the summer before my senior year of high school. There were a lot of people having a lot of fun on the sand dunes, including a boy – a really cute boy – who had an awesome baja bug! It was love at first sight. Not so much for the boy, although he was dreamy, as for that really cute, totally cool car. My parents were over-the-top pleased that my heart’s desire for a “first car” was a Volkswagen. They’d lucked out. My brother wanted a brand new turbo-charged Mustang (which he got by the way) and I only wanted a cheap, used, inexpensive-to-insure, beetle!
That started the search for my dream car and my dad’s new project – building a baja bug! As any awesome dad would do, he made my dream come true. He transformed that feed shed into my very first cute little car. About a week before school started, it was ready. Bright and shiny and purring like a kitten. One problem – I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift. Dad to the rescue again. Below is an almost verbatim re-telling of my one and only lesson for learning to drive a stick shift:
Sunday afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky. Dad drives us out to outer Mongolia where we’re sure not to encounter another living person, pulls over to the side of the road and gets out. I adjust my new driver’s seat, buckle my new seat belt, adjust my new killer radio and sparkly new mirrors (in that order) and place hands on the steering wheel at 10 and 2. I look to my dad for instructions. He cracks open a beer and says, “Well drive. And don’t spill my beer.”
Now, please understand, I am NOT condoning this method of instruction. Nor is this particularly good parenting. However, I understand now my dad’s redneck way of getting me to learn to drive with that extra pedal on the floor. The one thing my dad loves more than almost anything is beer. To waste even one small drop by allowing it to spill is nothing short of sacrilige. I didn’t want that hanging over my head. And, heaven knows I didn’t want my new car smelling like beer. I was only 17 years old for crying out loud! Let me tell you, I learned quickly how to ease off that clutch. We jerked down that road exactly one time in each gear before I got the hang of it. Dad held the beer can out the window just in case, but it only took that one lesson and I was driving like a pro! According to my dad, it was a one-beer lesson. I think he was a little disappointed that I caught on so quickly.
Anyway, suffice it to say, I haven’t had an automatic transmission vehicle since 1981. I not only learned how to drive a manual transmission, I fell in love with the manual transmission.
So there you have it. My drinking and driver’s education trip down memory lane!
Now tell me, what’s your “learning to drive” story?
Word of the Day: Demurrage
Fun fact about me: I’ve never had a broken bone! (knocking on wood now)
Nothing near as interesting as yours! My dad was a nervous-nelly in the car so it made me more nervous, too! 🙂
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Hi Virna and thanks for stopping by this morning.
My mom was the nervous one. She’s the one who actually rode shotgun while I was first learning to drive. Dad knew I already had the basics down it was just getting the hang of the clutch. He never would have survived the initial round of learning. He’d be stone cold drunk out there if he had to sit through that part. God bless my mom for her patience and courage.
Good to see a chapter member here so early this morning!
Patricia
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Mu dear, easy-going father told me I had to learn to drive in his stick-on-the-steering wheel truck. It didn’t go well. I stalled his orange truck in the middle of the busiest intersection in Santa Rosa – five roads coming into the middle. He pushed me toward the door, and moved us out of the honking horns. I found my driving teacher at high school even a bit more daunting. To start with, I must admit that I had a BIG crush on his son – his name was Jerry 🙂 – and I was so nervous sitting next to Jerry’s dad that I simply screwed up letting out the clutch every time. Mr. Gromer knew I was an idiot and finally raised his voice to a loud roar the upteenth time his head hit the windshield. I did pass driver’s training and my Dad did calm down and my first car was a stick on the floor. Loved my 1958 white hatch-back Volvo with red inside that was going around the speedometer for the second time. It was old, but it was mine and I could stop it on a dime – why my Mom’s hair turned gray – and drive it for a month on a tank of gas. Those were the days…
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Well Paisley – I can personally attest to the fact that you conquered the skill quite admirably. As weill everything you do, persistance pays off! (You and your Jerry’s!)
Thanks for taking the time to share your story.
Patricia
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How fun! Love the One-Beer lesson. Great. And, thanks for the shout out. My dad taught me how to drive a manual transmission as well. We drove the company mercedes up and down the path in the corn fields. I did really well, very well, until …. I was parking the car and had a little brake/gas pedal confusion and crashed that car into the garbage can. Oops!
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Oh my gosh, Ginger! I had a similar experience with the Plymouth.
My mom was coaxing me into the garage. I did not want to drive into the garage. My mom kept saying “you have to learn how sometime.” So I relied on her years of experience and tried it.
It was a 2-car garage and my dad’s car was parked on the right. I was inching my way into the space between the wall on the left and Dad’s car on the right. My mom kept telling me to get farther left, which I did, until she suddenly realized I was too far left. She yelled stop and I hit the gas instead of the brake and we went flying into the garage – literally – right into the garage and almost into the dining room. I took out the car and the house at the same time.
I think that was the first time I heard my mom swear. She blamed herself but still, I wouldn’t drive for about 6 months after that experience.
And yet, Dad still took me out in the Volkswagen as if nothing happened.
I’m so glad I’m not a parent. I don’t know how people survive!
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Great story!
I remember being afraid to drive. As I finished my driver’s ed test–the driving portion, I realized I’d left the parking brake on the entire time. Luckily, the dmv instructor didn’t notice. In fact she passed me, her only criticism was that I was too “pokey.” 🙂
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Well at least you didn’t get a burning brake smell while you were testing! I’m glad you passed, Pokey!
Thanks for stopping by, Colleen.
Patricia
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Patricia, your story is the funniest I’ve heard. If you hadn’t been such a quick learner, your dad could have finished that beer and popped another one. He knew he needed to stay relaxed.
I learned to drive on a stick shift, and hard as it was, in a pinch, I’m happy to know I can drive almost any vehicle. These days, though, my car’s an automatic. What can I tell you? It’s easy.
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Well I will admit the automatic is a lot easier especially in the stop and go commute traffic. But I like to be in control of the car. I like to decide when to shift so I can get that extra little ooomph of power up the hill or taking off from a stop sign. It’s a control issue I know, but what can I say. Besides it’s just so fun to drive like the race car drivers! (I’m making revving noises as I type.)
And I knew better than to spill my dad’s beer. I learned that lesson early on in life.
Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment.
Patricia
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LOL! Glad you didn’t force your dad to commit “alcohol abuse!” I love driving stick, Also, it’s a good excuse NOT to let my 16yo drive my 2010 Camaro until she gets a lot more experience. Scary enough that she’s driving my ’99 Firebird, the only automatic I’ve ever owned. When I was her age, all I wanted was to drive my dad’s ’69 Camaro, which was a three-speed. It was scary (those old Camaros are NOT for short people!) but I did fine, until it was time to park it in the garage. My story isn’t as funny as some here, but my mom ended up parking it, as the Camaro was much bigger than the car I was used to driving. She told me to watch, and “do it just like this.” Then proceeded to hit the Kerosene can (empty, thankfully) against the back wall of the garage. My response: “Do I have to hit the Kerosene can?” We still laugh about that.
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Oh my goodness, Jennette, I love those old Firebirds and Cameros. I’d love to have one of the new Cameros. They are so cool! You’re a lucky girl.
I’m with you, I would not let my 16 year old drive my Camero either. Of course driving a ’99 Firebird’s pretty cool too in my opinion.
Thanks for sharing the kerosene can story. That’s awesome!
I remember saying to my mom – after I crashed into the house – “do we have to tell, Dad?” She said, “I’m pretty sure he already knows.”
Patricia
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Great post! My dad took me driving on Coffin Rd. in Alviso or Sunnyvale, don’t remember for sure.
He got the biggest kick out of the street name. Dad also insisted I learn to drive a stick as “Anyone can drive an automatic!”.
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Aren’t dads great that way? My dad also insisted that I learn how to change my own oil and a flat tire. He said if you’re responsible enough to drive it, you need to be responsible enough to take care of it. Good advice! To this day, I will change a tire before I will wait for a tow truck. That is if I can get the dang lug nuts off.
Thanks for stopping and sharing your story.
Patricia
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Loved your story. Brought back so many memories for me. I didn’t get my license until I was 19. As a New Yorker, I never needed one. Took another year to get my first car. I don’t think I’ll ever invest in my dream car, an Aston Martin, but it’s nice to dream :).
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Hi Isis, thanks for stopping by.
Funny about not needing a license in New York. My husband’s step-son lives there and he was visiting us for Christmas. He had to have us pick him up because he’d let his driver’s license expire since he doesn’t drive. I couldn’t imagine not having a car.
Aston Martin huh? I hope you get it some day!
Patricia
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Great post, Patricia!
I’m a stick-shift gal all the way! I’ve been driving over 40 years (GASP!) and have only owned two automatic transmission cars.
My ex-husband (he was my boyfriend then) taught me to drive a stick. That’s how I knew he really loved me. He had a 2 yr old Corvette! I knew he was either insane or loved me to let me drive that car. 😉
AC
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YOU GOT TO DRIVE A CORVETTE!!! I’m shamelessly jealous!
Awesome story. Yes, indeed, he just have loved you very much. It’s hard to come between a guy and his sports car!
Thanks for visiting, Cindy. Always nice to see my chaptermates!
Patricia
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I learned to drive in a VW bug with a stick shift. I’m glad my parents didn’t hold any kind of beverage during my early lessons, because they’d have been soaked several times before I got the hang of things.
We also had an old Ford sedan that was ENORMOUS. I remember driving down a country road early in my training days when I had a tendency to make Big Blue hug the right side of the lane. My mom made me stop in the middle of the road, get out, and walk all the way around the car to see just where it was. Since I was sure there was not enough room for the beast between the white and dotted lines, seeing for myself that I had several feet on either side of the car gave me the confidence I needed. From then on, I did a far better job of remaining in the middle of my lane.
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Oh those old Big Blues. That’s how I felt in the Plymouth. My husband drives a big old full size, 3/4 ton pick-up truck with the extended cab, it’s huge and I feel like I’m driving a school bus when I drive that thing. I guess it’s because I’m rather small in stature, but geez, that baby’s a tank. I do feel really safe when I’m in it though.
Good decision by your mom too. Nice way to make a point. You had to see for yourself.
Thanks for posting a comment, Keli. Nice to see other SVR members coming out to party today.
Patricia
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How fun! I have a learning to ride a bike story I won’t bore you with. Suffice to say I was a slow learner–my bike story dates from the same age as your car story–age 17.
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Oh, Sue, I’d love to hear the bike story. Maybe another post, huh?
Thanks so much for stopping by and supporting my blogging adventures. Good to see the SVR folks this morning!
Patricia
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Too funny, Patricia! I was a terrible driver (still am) and I earned the nickname of “Crash” in high school. Luckily it was nothing too serious. Just stupid things like backing into telephone poles or totally missing the driveway to the library and ending up on the front lawn. Luckily I’ve spent most of my adult life cities where you don’t need to drive.
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Hi Crash – I mean Alicia. Thanks for stopping by and being honest enough to admit your weakness. I think that’s why some of us can live in cities and others simply cannot tolerate it. I’m definitely not a city girl.
I will admit that I have backed into a thing or two in my life time too. I always chalked it up to having something really heavy weighing on my mind. At least the car was still driveable.
Also sort of ironic, with those bad driving skills, that you last name is street.
Nice to see you at my blog. Stop by any time. My blog never closes!
Patricia
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Hey there Patricia, how are you?
Loved your story. My dad took me out too. How funny. I think my mother would have liked to die than rather be with me behind the wheel. LOL!
I learned how to drive in driver’s ed. They had that in school back in the day. Uh oh, I’m giving away my age again. Anyway, I took to driving right away. Although it was not a stick. I can’t remember when I learn how to drive a manual transmission. Hmm. Nope it ain’t coming to me. Sorry.
But I can guarantee you that it wasn’t in a baja bug. Now that was cool! 🙂
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Hey, Karen. Good to see you. I’m doing well.
I learned to drive for the very first time in drivers ed in school too, but most of my behind the wheel driving when I was first learning was with my mom in the Plymouth. She was very patient and calm. Of course I had an older brother so she had already been through the routine with him.
Thanks for stopping by and sharing your story.
Patricia
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What a fun story! My mother attempted to teach my how to drive a stick shift-the first time I drove, in the DMV parking lot five minutes after getting my permit. The car chugged back and forth and then died, while my mom was curled up in the fetal position on the floor yelling at me to stop the car. That ended our lessons. Then my step-mom taught me how to drive. An automatic first, then a stick shift. For my stick shift lessons, she ended the day with the Taco Bell drive through, which was on a slight hill. I made it and got the taco as a reward.
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Ah ha – the reward system. My first “on the hill” experience with the baja bug was when I was alone. I killed it twice, but finally got the hang of it. I was embarrassed and little afraid too, but I was determined to get the hang of it.
Thanks for stopping by, Emma. Good to see you!
Patricia
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I love this story! I laughed so hard, and had to call my husband over to share the story with him.
There’s something about driving a stick shift that’s so much fun. I got my first automatic just a few years ago. Before that, it was stick all the way. I have to say, I do like an automatic on the hills in San Francisco.
I remember once in Wyoming, on an icy hill, I sat at a stoplight at the top. The light turned green and before I could let out the clutch, it slid backward down the hill toward the car behind me. The fast thinking driver put his car in neutral and slid downhill ahead of me. Thankfully, we didn’t meet by accident.
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Oh Suzanne, the dreaded ice on the hill. I still break out in a sweat with my Subaru in the winter when faced with this problem. I’ve had a couple of close calls myself trying to take off – or stop – on an icy incline. Fortunately I don’t have to deal with that situation too often.
Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. Good to see another chaptermate.
Patricia
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“A one-beer lesson,” I love that line. I love this whole post, as a matter of fact! Sounds like the makings of a novel, starting with the description of the beetle before its transformation. And your dad drinking while teaching you how to drive a stick! LOL! I guess more parents would feel relaxed and at ease if they had a beer or two before giving the lesson! Before getting in the car of course. And I’m JK about that. It’s bad parenting, yes, but it makes a heck of a good story to share!
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Yes Lynn, it does make a good story! Of course this happened way back in the early ’80’s when things were done a little differently too. Even seatbelts weren’t mandatory when I learned to drive.
God bless my dad for his less-than-traditional method of teaching. But, it was certainly effective! I learned right quick how to drive that stick shift.
Makings of a novel? Hmmmm. You might be right.
Thanks for stopping by, Lynn and sharing your thoughts.
Patricia
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That’s so funny. I hadn’t driven an automatic in years when I married my husband and he came complete with one. Why? Because it was the cheaper model when he bought it on a struggling writer’s budget. LOL I was so rusty shifting into and out of gear at first. It was funny – sort of. But it didn’t take long to remember all the stuff my father had taught me. Fun read Patricia/Jansen. 😉
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I guess it’s like riding a bike huh? That is primarily why I’ve purchased stick shift cars as well, to save some money. But now I have to look hard and long to find one. Not too many folks are offering a manual transmission option these days. I notice the new Cadillac has a 5-speed option though. Me thinks I may have to explore the luxury models next time I’m in the market for new wheels.
Thanks for stopping by, Debra!
Patricia
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Hello Patricia! I am coming by to check on you. How are you? And what’s up girl? I do hope that things are okay. Haven’t seen you in a while, although you aren’t the only one that isn’t blogging right now. And that’s okay. I just wanted to know that you are okay. Please let me know and if there is anything that I can do. Take care. 🙂
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Hey Karen, thanks for checking in on me. Everything’s fine, just a little busy. Been busy visiting blogs, but haven’t been to yours in a while. For some reason I’m not getting an e-mail announcement from you when you put up a new post.
I’ll try to be more frequent to your site.
Thanks for caring and taking the time to come check up on me.
New post up tomorrow. I only post on the first of each month.
Patricia
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This is hilarious and your dad was so creative! Awesome story! Wow you must be an awesome driver!
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Love it! I dropped by because I found your link at Susie Lindau’s site, and I’ll be sure to come back again. 🙂
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Thanks for taking the time, Heather! I look forward to having you as a regular.
Patricia
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I’m hopping over here from Susie’s blog. I remember this post. It’s a good one! I’m glad you posted the link to it.
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