by John Atchison

Created on: March 06, 2009   Last Updated: May 31, 2010

Whether it be at a young age or in those early teen years, one thing all kids are fascinated by is the thought of driving!  The feeling of power being behind the wheel, out on the open road and free to take your car to wherever you want to go.  As much as we dream of the moment though, we also live with the realization that we can't drive till we are 16.  Or can we?  As it turned out, in my case the dream was about to come true at age 12 and I was scared as hell!  My father, who had a spine disease, had taken us to McDonalds for lunch and upon coming back to the car announced, "John you will have to drive, my back is locking up".  

Let me start with some very quick background. My father was a wonderful man, and dealt with adversity from a young age. At the young age of 27, he was injured on the job where he worked, and had to have back surgery. Before he could have the surgery though, he had to be tested, and wouldn't you know, he was allergic to the dye he was injected with, and contracted a neuro disease that affects one in a million people. Told in 1975 that he would be dead within 5 years, he went on to live 32 more years. However on this day, his back would lock up the likes of which we had never seen before.

My father had gotten to the car and was attempting to get ready to adjust his seat back so that he could drive home when he shouted, "I can't move". Due to the fact that my father had quite the sense of humor, we shrugged it off and laughed. He did not see the humor. He was locked up and could not move. His medications were at home, and my mother was at work 50 miles away. Dad turned to me and said "Push me over and get behind the wheel, your going to have to get us home". Huh? What? You have got to be kidding me, right?

It was no joke. My sister and I slid him across to the passenger side of the front seat, as it was a one-piece front seat in those days. The time had come. It was I and my four foot six frame, versus the daunting, and rather scary 1968 White Buick LeSabre. This car was nicknamed "The Boat" and there was no questioning why. When I sheepishly got behind the wheel, I felt as though I was the captain of an Ocean Liner. My diminutive height was not helping matters either. It was by the slimmest of margins that I was able to reach the pedals, and see out of the window at the same time. With great apprehension, I turned the key in the ignition and heard this mighty roar on what seemed like a train engine.

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