Learning to Drive

Learning to drive may present a few problems for Malia Obama. Who is going to be her instructor? What about the secret service following along? In the photos Malia appears happy or excited to begin the adventure this summer.

I may have been the only teen in history with absolutely no interest in learning how to drive. It was fine with me for a parent, friend, or date to chauffeur me around. My mother had other ideas. At her insistence I obtained the booklet, studied it, passed the test with flying colors and was granted the learner’s permit. Getting behind the wheel was another matter. I did not want to do it. My friends would beg their parents to check them out of school on the day of their sixteenth birthday to take them for the driving test, which when passed would end in the issuance of the coveted license. Since my mother was a teacher, she took a dim view of either of us missing school for anything other than a major illness, so skipping school on my March birthday to take the test was not an option. It was also determined that I had not had adequate practice to pass the test. Reprieve!

But the reprieve was not to last. When summer came, Mother declared that there would be a driving lesson each day until I got my license. As soon as the dishes were washed after lunch she would take her ‘nerve pill,’ I would get some Kleenex, and we would get into the car. The lesson would last for a specified amount of time, until she couldn’t take it anymore, or until I was crying too much to drive.

Mother began driving when she was only thirteen. When my grandmother took her nap in the afternoon, Mother sat in the Model A Ford and studied the booklet that came with the car. One day she decided she understood it, cranked the car, and drove around the circle in front of their house. Waked by the sound, Grandmother came out of the house just as Mother circled around. Grandmother got in the car, Mother drove around the circle again a few times, and from then on Mother drove. I’m not sure when she got her first license, but there are stories, some quite comical, of obtaining licenses in various states when they moved for my father’s jobs just before WWII.

There were many things that Mother insisted that I learn. The only two that I remember disliking intensely were learning to drive and learning to type. Mother was a very wise woman; the things I liked learning the least are the things I’ve used the most.

 

Taking a Different Route

There was no Brownie or Girl Scout troop in the small town where I grew up, so perhaps I have a tiny bit of an excuse for not knowing some things. I am acquainted with people who can glance at the sky, and from the position of the sun, have a good idea of what time it might be. I am not one of those people. Neither can I tell you which direction I am facing except at sunrise or sundown. But I do like maps – as decorative objects. Their intended use of providing navigational aid is lost on me. On some intellectual level I almost understand how they work, but can’t make the leap to using the information to actually find my way around. As one of my friends said long ago, I could get lost in a paper bag. Despite the fact that I’ve lived there for years, once in awhile I get turned around in my own neighborhood. In other words, ‘directionally challenged’ does not even begin to describe my problem.

Only in recent years have I had to find my way around on my own on trips, but becoming a widow meant that unless I wanted to stay at home forever, I had to bite the proverbial bullet and get out there. Thank goodness for MapQuest and a GPS. I usually start out with both, but the GPS is the best for me because I don’t have to try to read a page and watch the road at the same time. The GPS also understands my attention span and reminds me several times what I have to do, then if I miss a turn, immediately (sometimes very aggravatingly) insists that I make a legal u-turn.

Having said all this, perhaps it is understandable that part of my trip yesterday turned into an adventure for me. Traveling from near Jackson, MS, to Austin, TX, I planned to leave I-20 near the Louisiana line and head south to Austin. My GPS was adamant that I stay on it through Dallas. For me it was an act of bravery that I turned off the GPS. True, I did have a MapQuest print-out, but not for the exact route. Nor did I have a Texas map with me. In a rather startling realization of how dependent on the GPS I’ve become, it took several miles before I got over the slight panic at being disconnected and settled down for a pleasant ride on smaller roads through the Texas countryside. Had I stayed on the Interstate I’m not sure what the scenery would have been, but along the long stretches between the small towns there were lovely wildflowers, long-horn cattle, beautiful trees, and the best surprise of the day: a Roadrunner! Seeing the spunky little bird was such a delight that I laughed out loud, and continued happily on a different route.