To be perfectly honest, I first drove a car before I learned to drive. How is that?
Well, my uncle Ross had an old Chevy with a 3-on-the-tree at my Aunt Anna’s farm (our family farm), and somehow (the memory is suppressed), my cousin Vicky and I had the keys and took a little drive on the dirt roads nearby. We did okay, didn’t wreck the car, and didn’t hurt anyone and, somehow, didn’t get caught!
My first “learning” to drive was at driver education in my second year of high school. Before actually getting behind the wheel, we experienced driving in a trailer that had a movie of driving at the front, and we sat at driving simulators with pedals, wheels, etc.
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After graduating from the trailer, I sat in a real car with an instructor in the front passenger seat. That car gave the instructor control of the brake (and other controls perhaps; I don’t remember exactly).
Before getting my license, I got a learner’s permit that allowed me to drive as long as someone who had a license for more than a year was sitting in the passenger seat. Fortunately my best friend Diana fit the bill, and my parents actually allowed me to have the car to drive to “the library”. Not that we didn’t actually GO to the library, but we did make a number of detours. Like McDonald’s (usually), and one time I drove the car as fast as I could just to see. Never got caught or killed.
That was in my mom’s 1958 Ford Fairlane with a big V-8. It was a pretty fast car. A high school friend (older than me) had a Ford Fairlane Skyliner (hardtop convertible). His dad was a doctor, and both his parents drove convertibles – a white Cadillac and a baby blue Pontiac. Those were the days!
Our car looked like this one, except it was red and white, and it didn’t have a naked girl decal on the fender.
My mom and dad also allowed me behind the wheel with them, including on the freeway. They were brave souls! Dad also taught me how to change a tire. A really useful skill that I employed many times over the years.
Finally, I took my license test, which took place at school. Apparently, they arranged to have a state inspector come to us, which was much nicer than going to the DMV, and we were driving on familiar roads. I still have my first provisional license! The one they give you until you get the real one in the mail.
After I got my license, my dad traded in the Ford. I wanted a convertible, and he indulged me (sort of) by buying a much lower powered vehicle (probably wise) – a 1961 Rambler American convertible, with a manual top. My friends called it “The Boat”. My mom and I shared it. That worked out great, because that first summer she worked nights at a nursing home, and I worked days, so we were both able to drive to work.
Looked like this one, but was gold metallic with a gold vinyl interior.
My mom and I shared a couple of other cars after that – a white Chevrolet with a red interior, then a blue Chevrolet Impala, before I moved out, got married, and drove my husband’s cars – the awful 1957 Chevy with the rotten body, the Karmann Ghia that had to be push started on a regular basis (I could do it all by myself!), and finally the 1968 Austin Healey Sprite that was new, in my name, and that I took with me after the divorce.
I have always loved to drive, but hated car upkeep, and experienced much of it up until the past 15 years or so. Although I love the old cars, I must admit that the new ones are more reliable, if boring.
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My dad was a real wheeler dealer. As a sideline he was always buying and selling stuff, mostly cars, boats, and motorcycles, so he always had lots of cars and trucks.
He was adamant about me learning to drive on a stick shift. He told me dozens of times “If you can’t drive a straight shift, you can’t drive!” Boy, he meant it too.
I still think he went about it wrong though. Because he wanted me to understand that the clutch was different in every car he made me swap from car to car when I was learning to use the clutch. I still think it took me a lot longer to master the clutch than if I had just used one car, learned how to do it consistently and then changed to various other models. He also had a Mercedes diesel that really threw me off.
Anyhow, I learned to drive in a Mercedes sedan, a Chevy Nova, a Ford Pinto, and International pickup, an old station wagon, can’t remember what kind, and various other cars that circulated through our lives as he taught me to drive.
And to this day I am glad he made me learn to drive on a straight shift car. I can drive!
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I didn’t learn on a standard shift, but all the cars I drove while I was married were sticks. As a matter of fact, the car I drove from 1996-2003, a Chevy Cavalier, was a 5-speed! Got the best gas mileage of any car I owned; 35 mpg consistently.
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I insisted that my son learn on a stick shift. He was totally agreeable to that. It paid off well when he went to the Naval Academy. When he went out with the older guys, he wasn’t old enough to drink and was always the designated driver. Some of these guys had really fancy sports cars that had stick shifts. He was one of the only ones who could drive one.
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Let see…..couple of tractors, cars from the early ‘60s. Three on the tree, four on the floor, and auto…….
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My first car was a white 1958 Rambler. Three on the tree. My dad set up full chemical barrels and made me practice parallel parking between them and he kept making the space smaller and smaller. I remember asking my dad what would happen if I hit one of the barrels and his response was one word, “KaBoom”. Perhaps that might account for the fact that I hate to parallel park.
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This song always makes me smile and brings back memories of diving our pontoon boat when I was a very small child.
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Never learned to love cars, only how to fix the engine, and maintenance. Dad said a car is the worst investment anyone could ever make, it depreciated as soon as you drove it off the lot, so our cars had power nothing, no radio, three on the column, and tires (!). And buying a used car was buying someone else’s headaches. But Dad went every two years and bought Mom her new Oldsmobile. Go figure.
Ma soeur, 15 months older, taught me to drive; I taught L’il Bro. Boy did we ever have fun.
You all had much more interesting lives. Dad did teach me nuclear engineering during carpentry and mechanics lessons, and that was fun, for me anyway. Thanks for sharing your memories.
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My HS had a parking lot marked off for driving & parking, & new cars to practice in. One class every day for 6 months 4 10th graders per car drove around & around & practiced backing up & parking. The idle on the cars was set so high we never got to prwctice accellerating, only braking! On Sundays after church my mother & brothers rode around with me while I practiced on miles of roads built for unconstructed housing developments south of Miami. My father made me change a tire before he let me drive alone. Before I started college (1967) he bought a 1959 Oldsmobile for me, but for the first 6 months I had to drop him off at work & pick him up after I finished classes every day. He always bought used cars, mostly for less than $200, since he could fix anything, including doing body work. Gas cost 19-23 cents per gallon. I learned to drive a stick shift on a Morris (British car) a college roommate owned. Still prefer 4 (now 5) on the floor. Had an MGB, Spitfire, 1965 Mustang and a few others with stick shifts. If I won the lottery, I’d buy the 2 seater Mercedes sports car!
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What great memories. I’m with Menagerie and others who said their dads required them to learn on a standard transmission. My dad also said “if you can’t drive a stick, you can’t drive.” My first car was a 1963 Corvair (Ralph Nadar’s death trap) with 4 on the floor. Next was a VW Fastback, then a Karmann Ghia hard top (when I so wanted a convertible). Then a VW Squareback, then a VW bug. Can’t remember now why so many, except that the Fastback was ruined by submersion in salt water during Hurricane Camille in 1969; we lived in Gulfport, Mississippi and had a 20′ tide. The very best car, and only new one, was a 1972 Pontiac LeMans. Cost $4,000, which Dad thought outrageous. Man, do I wish I still had that car. She was a beaut.
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