Learning to Drive

The very first time I got in the drivers seat of our car, I wasn't big enough to see out. Dad and I had taken the car back to what we called "the grove". It was a small grove of old growth trees that Dad used to pasture the animals (both cows and hogs, never together) in occasionally. I'm sure it was because there was a water pump back there. It was across the road from the house and a source of water would be necessary if the stock couldn't come to the barn on their own. This was the only field used for pasture on that side of the road. It wasn't used often because it was quite a distance from the house. Which made it harder to keep the water tank full and to keep an eye on the stock. We had a cow due to calve soon and Dad just took me along to check on her. When we found her, she already had the calf. Dad wanted to bring cow and calf back to the barn, but that created a problem. The calf was newborn and couldn't make it all the way home. Dad's solution was to climb on the front hood/bumper of the car and hold the calf while I drove slowly enough for the cow to keep up. But, I'd never driven anything but the tractors before. He turned the car around, and left it facing the house in the middle of the road. He gave me a very brief talk on gear and peddle, it was an automatic shift, then he climbed up front with the calf on his lap and off we went with a bawling cow staying right beside him all the way. I did fine going straight down the road. When I got to our driveway, I stopped. But, Day yelled at me to turn the wheel and keep going. Like I said, I couldn't see anything but Dad sitting up high and the cow beside us. I turned the wheel and slowly started forward again. The cow was in the way and Dad was having trouble holding a struggeling calf. I didn't quite make it in the driveway. What I did do was manage to pin my father and the calf between the car and our mail box. I was going so slow that I was able to stop immediately. But I was all shook up. Dad was yelling for me to put the car in reverse......but, he hadn't told me how to do that. Luckily Mom heard him yelling and she came running. She climbed in the car, pushing me over all in one movement and saved Dad and the calf. I was crying, Dad was yelling at me and Mom was yelling at Dad and the cow and calf were both adding their voices to the chorus. After Dad was sure the calf was ok and both cow and calf were in the barn, it was decided I couldn't drive again till I got taller. Dad was still upset with me, but couldn't say much because Mom was mad at Dad for putting me in that situation.

The car, by the way, was a 1951 Chevy. Black. We had it till Mom was picked up on the way to town by the police. They suspected her in some hit and run because of all the dents in the car. Not any dent I put in it. Dad had caused the biggest dent when he pulled on overhead farm gas tank down on the hood. It also had a few dents from Emma the goat. It was pretty much a wreck. Mom got back home the day the police stopped her and told Dad she would never drive that car again. She was so embarrassed. So Dad traded it for a 1957 Chevy. It also had automatic shift and I did eventually learn to drive in it.

Before I got my drivers lisence though there was the lesson in the big stock truck. It was not automatic. Dad was sending Mom on some errand to a neighbors north of us. Which meant going over that railroad track. Mom decided since it was close, and only on country roads, it was the perfect time to teach me to shift gears. I'd driven with her several times in the "57 by then. We had a half circle driveway and before setting off, Mom had me drive around our driveway and out on the road and circle the drive again. That only got me from neutral to first a couple times, but after all, starting is the hard part of driving a shift. I was doing fine, till we got to the railroad. The stock truck was very old and huge and it had a few quirks of it's own. When we started up the hill that was the railroad track, the truck jumped out of gear and into neutral. We rolled backwards. I put the truck back in gear and started up again. But, once again the truck went into neutral and rolled back. Mom and I got the giggles. (She and I did that a lot.) I tried again.......and again........and again. By then we were laughing pretty hard. I could not get that big old truck over the railroad track. So, we traded places and Mom tried. And tried......and tried. I can't guess how long it took us, but Mom did finally make it. Once over, she stopped and I drove the rest of the way with no trouble. Coming home again, it was the same thing. We laughed till our sides hurt, but I stuck with it till I got over and made it home. Once home, Dad asked why a 20 minute errand had taken us all afternoon and all we could do was start laughing again.

By the time I got to Drivers Training in school, I was an old pro and the nice new standard shift we were taught in was pure luxury. I got to embarrass the boys in our class, because the teacher (a man) said I was the "most natural" he'd ever taught. Then they got to laugh at me because I said something about the car not having as many gears. Someone wanted to know what I was talking about and I said something about the car not having a "creeper gear" That sent everyone into laughter. They had never heard of creeper gear and thought I'd made it up. I still don't know if that was the real name or just what Dad called it. The stock truck had a gear that moved so slow we could keep the truck moving while we picked up corn from the hand picked piles we left when we opened the field. You could walk behind the truck and pick up and throw the corn in the back while it crept on. The only name I knew was "creeper gear." If those boys in Driver Training ever learned I was right, they sure never admitted it to me. I just know once you mastered that old stock truck, standard shift was nothing to fear ever again. Even when our teacher tried to find a hill in our flat county for us to learn to stop and hold and start again on, it was easy for me. I was Teacher's "Natural".