Who taught you to drive? Grampaw taught me.

[trof]

It was 1956.
I was 15, but as soon as I was 16 I could get my license.
WooHoo!

Grampaw was a car salesman.
Buicks and Cadillacs.
He was very good at it.
Got a brand new Buick Roadmaster 'demonstrator' every year from the dealership.

One Saturday afternoon he said "Come on, buddy. Let's take a ride."
I was always ready to go for a ride with Grampaw.

We arrived at Elmwood Cemetary, and I wondered why we were there.
Our extended family had several plots there, but we only went a few times during the year, and always on a Sunday.
I soon learned why.

Elmwood had an extensive network of paved roads.
Some very narrow and some wide.
Some with sharp turns and some with broad curves.
And there was almost NO traffic on a Saturday.

Grampaw got out and walked around to my side and opened the door.
"Move over."
INTO THE DRIVER'S SEAT!? UNDER THE STEERING WHEEL!?
WOW!!!

He gave me a short briefing, but I'd watched him drive for years and already knew about the accelerator and the brake.

I started out slowly, v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y.
A crawl.
After a few minutes he said "OK, bump it up a little. But If I say 'STOP!', you STOP! Understand me?"
"Yessir!"

That afternoon I began to gain confidence and learn.
How much gas to give it. How much wheel turn to keep it where I wanted it to go. How to make a smooth stop. We wound around those streets for a couple of hours.
I was in heaven.


We spent a couple more Saturday afternoons at the boneyard.
Then came my final exam.

Grampaw brought a jar of water on our last trip.
He took the lid off and sat it on top of the car.
"Drive where I tell you and don't spill any."
He then directed me.
"Turn left here. Take a right. Stop. OK, go to the corner and take a right. Stop. Back up."
I didn't spill a drop.
"OK, buddy. You're ready."

And I thought "Today I AM a man!"


Your experiences?