Pokey
I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind Aaron, but here goes. . .
In NJ back in 1987 you got your learners permit at 16 1/2 and your license at 17 - you went the day you turned 17, you didn't wait because you weren't ready, didn't feel like it, didn't need it or didn't care, EVERYONE cared and everyone was at the DMV ON their birthday sweating like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. We were dying to drive. License = Freedom.
I was 17 and my Dad took me to Bakers Basin for my test in his 1976 El Camino - this was a bitchin car, all restored in a slightly brown maroon with parchment colored leather snap on bed cover and his initials on both doors - that may, and I'm pretty sure I'm right, be the reason he no longer has it. Talk about Mom being pissed - both doors Dad? Really??
I passed my test (parallel park a boat like that!) and when I saw Dad he said, "Passed, right?" Like there was an option, and we headed home. Awaiting me in the driveway was a 1980 Ford Escort in gray, with a big plastic red bow - Dad was doing bows, albeit plastic, light years ahead of Lexus. It was love at first sight, I was so excited (I get super excited about everything, I may have a condition) I peered in and the headliner was hanging down, "I can fix that!" I said, fearing at any moment I would burst right out of my skin. "It's a Pony, I'm naming it Pokey." In honor of Gumby *sigh*. Now Dad had to go back to work and his parting words were, "I'll teach you to drive a stick when I get home from work, but here are the keys." What a sadistic man!.Who leaves a 17 year old nutjob with a stick shift and it's keys?? Who does that?? I spent the afternoon crying my eyes out in the driveway, determined to figure it out on my own and also stalling my brains outs.
Dad got home, changed into his 'after work clothes' and said, "Get in." I explained to him that I may have broken the car by stalling it more times that Ford could have imagined. He shook his head and explained the concept and talked me through it - I have used this technique on many people, it's one of the few times I don't get frustrated and pissed trying to teach something to someone (god bless teachers). It's really the only thing I can teach. I've been trying to teach the girls to make rice pilaf for 17 years now - nothing sticks, except the rice - RIM SHOT!
First gear is the hardest, agreed? Then it's cake and a rhythm that you can't believe you struggled with once you get it. Totally different from parallel parking or backing up a trailer, that's a gift that some of us have and some of us never will - two camps - you know what flag you roast marshmallows beneath. Once I mastered it, we headed off, to the Pennington Circle. Now at this time, there were no yield signs, no, 'hey watch your left' signs, no 'go get 'em, they gotta stop' signs. NOTHING! I was like the Indy 500 - totally awesome, Dad and I flew around, me shifting, learning how to down shift, and both of us batting the head liner out of our hair.
As the sun set we quietly rolled into the driveway, the air smelling sweet and Mom waiting on the porch with a smile on her face. As we got out of the car and approached the big front porch Mom said, "So where'd you guys go?" I grinned and said, "We went around the circle." The birds actually all took off, a black cloud moved over and my father hung his head. Mom started in, "THE CIRCLE!!! GOD DAMMIT BRUCE ARE YOU NUTS!!!!" and she spun on her heels and marched into the house. Dad and I looked at each other and winked, we were so bad ass.
In NJ back in 1987 you got your learners permit at 16 1/2 and your license at 17 - you went the day you turned 17, you didn't wait because you weren't ready, didn't feel like it, didn't need it or didn't care, EVERYONE cared and everyone was at the DMV ON their birthday sweating like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. We were dying to drive. License = Freedom.
I was 17 and my Dad took me to Bakers Basin for my test in his 1976 El Camino - this was a bitchin car, all restored in a slightly brown maroon with parchment colored leather snap on bed cover and his initials on both doors - that may, and I'm pretty sure I'm right, be the reason he no longer has it. Talk about Mom being pissed - both doors Dad? Really??
I passed my test (parallel park a boat like that!) and when I saw Dad he said, "Passed, right?" Like there was an option, and we headed home. Awaiting me in the driveway was a 1980 Ford Escort in gray, with a big plastic red bow - Dad was doing bows, albeit plastic, light years ahead of Lexus. It was love at first sight, I was so excited (I get super excited about everything, I may have a condition) I peered in and the headliner was hanging down, "I can fix that!" I said, fearing at any moment I would burst right out of my skin. "It's a Pony, I'm naming it Pokey." In honor of Gumby *sigh*. Now Dad had to go back to work and his parting words were, "I'll teach you to drive a stick when I get home from work, but here are the keys." What a sadistic man!.Who leaves a 17 year old nutjob with a stick shift and it's keys?? Who does that?? I spent the afternoon crying my eyes out in the driveway, determined to figure it out on my own and also stalling my brains outs.
Dad got home, changed into his 'after work clothes' and said, "Get in." I explained to him that I may have broken the car by stalling it more times that Ford could have imagined. He shook his head and explained the concept and talked me through it - I have used this technique on many people, it's one of the few times I don't get frustrated and pissed trying to teach something to someone (god bless teachers). It's really the only thing I can teach. I've been trying to teach the girls to make rice pilaf for 17 years now - nothing sticks, except the rice - RIM SHOT!
First gear is the hardest, agreed? Then it's cake and a rhythm that you can't believe you struggled with once you get it. Totally different from parallel parking or backing up a trailer, that's a gift that some of us have and some of us never will - two camps - you know what flag you roast marshmallows beneath. Once I mastered it, we headed off, to the Pennington Circle. Now at this time, there were no yield signs, no, 'hey watch your left' signs, no 'go get 'em, they gotta stop' signs. NOTHING! I was like the Indy 500 - totally awesome, Dad and I flew around, me shifting, learning how to down shift, and both of us batting the head liner out of our hair.
As the sun set we quietly rolled into the driveway, the air smelling sweet and Mom waiting on the porch with a smile on her face. As we got out of the car and approached the big front porch Mom said, "So where'd you guys go?" I grinned and said, "We went around the circle." The birds actually all took off, a black cloud moved over and my father hung his head. Mom started in, "THE CIRCLE!!! GOD DAMMIT BRUCE ARE YOU NUTS!!!!" and she spun on her heels and marched into the house. Dad and I looked at each other and winked, we were so bad ass.
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