You would think that being nearly blind as a bat, I would miss certain things, and you would be right. Like walking through a room and not slamming my shins into the eternal clutter that is Mark's idea of decorating. Or how about sitting at a bar, having a jolly old time, and not spilling drinks all over the bar as I gesture wildly to punctuate the point of some story.
One thing that I do miss is driving a car. I miss the freedom of it, the thrill of speeding through the countryside, and the feel of power as I stomp on the gas pedal and car pounds forward. Of course, I would still not be driving very much even if I wasn't optically challenged. Even if I could see everything in front of me I'd still not be able to afford stomping on the gas. It would cost me ten dollars every time I went to the supermarket. As for speeding through the countryside, I haven't lived within one hour of the countryside for thirty five years. The closest I could come to freewheeling it down the road, is sitting in the gridlock of I-95. It was a lot different when I was sixteen and living in Tinley Park. I could drive a half mile from our house and be in the boondocks. All my early driving experiences were basically on country roads.
My very first driving experience was probably when I was fourteen years old. It was while my brother was away at his first year of college, and he had to leave his little white Plymouth Valiant at home in the garage. While the rest of the family was away visiting my grandmother one Sunday, I decided to sneak his car out for a spin. I learned a couple of valuable lessons about driving that day. The first lesson was that you don't turn the wheels before you take off from a stop sign. That will only put you into a ditch. Really, it will put right into a ditch and the engine just might die and trap you in that ditch. Lesson number two is that you can't start a car while the transmission is in the 'Drive' position. And if you can't start it, it doesn't mean that the car is out of gas and you have to hike a mile back into town for a can of gas that you really don't need. One final lesson I learned is that there are good people who will help you, and point out that your car is still in drive, that's why you can't start it. But not without being sarcastic while they point that out.
One thing that I do miss is driving a car. I miss the freedom of it, the thrill of speeding through the countryside, and the feel of power as I stomp on the gas pedal and car pounds forward. Of course, I would still not be driving very much even if I wasn't optically challenged. Even if I could see everything in front of me I'd still not be able to afford stomping on the gas. It would cost me ten dollars every time I went to the supermarket. As for speeding through the countryside, I haven't lived within one hour of the countryside for thirty five years. The closest I could come to freewheeling it down the road, is sitting in the gridlock of I-95. It was a lot different when I was sixteen and living in Tinley Park. I could drive a half mile from our house and be in the boondocks. All my early driving experiences were basically on country roads.
My very first driving experience was probably when I was fourteen years old. It was while my brother was away at his first year of college, and he had to leave his little white Plymouth Valiant at home in the garage. While the rest of the family was away visiting my grandmother one Sunday, I decided to sneak his car out for a spin. I learned a couple of valuable lessons about driving that day. The first lesson was that you don't turn the wheels before you take off from a stop sign. That will only put you into a ditch. Really, it will put right into a ditch and the engine just might die and trap you in that ditch. Lesson number two is that you can't start a car while the transmission is in the 'Drive' position. And if you can't start it, it doesn't mean that the car is out of gas and you have to hike a mile back into town for a can of gas that you really don't need. One final lesson I learned is that there are good people who will help you, and point out that your car is still in drive, that's why you can't start it. But not without being sarcastic while they point that out.
ahh, the way to a lesbian's heart...a nice car story. Please...I would love to hear a 4am "circus" story also...
ReplyDeleteI guess this is the rest of the story you have kept from me for 43 years. Did you ever do that with my 60 Ford.I have always wondered why it got one mile per gallon.
ReplyDeleteI remember driving once with Alan. Alan unknowingly cut off someone in traffic. The other guy was absolutely furious at Alan because of it and went into road rage. He sed up and tailgated Alan's car as if to smash into him. When Alan sped up he pulled up to the side of us and spewed obsenities. When Alan slowed down to let him go ahead he through a cocktail glass at Alan's car denting the door. He then sped off. What a jerk this other guy was. It was scary.
ReplyDeleteIt wasn't a cocktail glass, he wasn't that classy. It was a beer mug.
ReplyDeleteThehostess@ I'd love to tell my 4AM stories, but my family reads this. No reason to give my 86 year old mother a stroke.
ReplyDeleteAlan, you've already given her a stroke with this story!! She told me about it before I read it and says she is constantly amazed at ALL the things that happened when we were young...that she never knew about! She thought she was really up on everything...maybe we should tell her she she just forgot about it!
ReplyDeleteI'm convinced that she tells me that what I write is okay, even though it shocks her, just so she can find out these things.
ReplyDeleteok...so was it Alan or David that backed the '60 Ford with that giant fin into the fence? I remember someone reversing the wood on the fence so it was facing the neighbors house (the one mom hated)(not the house...the neighbor)and doing a quick paint job before dad got home.He never found out. I know it wasn't me because I was still too small to see over the steering wheel.
ReplyDeleteI think it was Peggy. Yes, that's the ticket, Peggy.
ReplyDeleteNOW I know why they wouldn't let me get my license until I was 19!!! You liars told them "old one eye" backed into the fence!!! I never had the nerve to try and drive a car behind their backs... especially after Dave tried to teach me on a Volkswagon stick shift. I know he thought he was being nicer than Dad.............
ReplyDeleteWhy the heck was Peggy driving my 60 Ford? Thank God someone had the sense to reverse the slates on the fence. Peggy might have been 21 or 22 before she could drive. The boys learned to drive at 13 or 14.I tried to teach Peggy to drive? That is a new one. No wonder I had to replace the clutch plate three times. And she wondered why I wasn't a happy camper while teaching her to drive. You had to remove the engine on that 1954 Volkswagen to change the clutch plate.I can't imagine teaching Peggy to drive, however, I would do nice things like that.
ReplyDelete