by Karen Greenberg

Created on: March 17, 2009

Memoirs: Learning to Drive
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"I need to go to the bank today. Let's go," Dad threw me the keys as he planned our route for the day.
"Ummmm. Dad? Do you remember that the only car here is the Colt? I don't know how to drive a stick shift," I replied.
"You will in a few minutes."
Dad was never a gentle teacher, but he was a patient one. His idea of instruction was to throw me into a situation and teach me how to get out of it. I'm sure glad he wasn't the one who taught me to swim!

The nearest bank was less than a mile from our home. It required all right turns, both there and back. Not a problem, I thought. I can do that. I'll just stay in the right lane and go as slow as I need to. I should have known Dad had something different in mind.
As we got in the car, my dad began the step by step instruction. Seat belt on. Check. Mirrors adjusted. Check. Depress clutch while turning the key. Check. Hey, this isn't so hard! I had the car started and was ready to roll. Or so I thought.
Like most driveways in the area, ours was designed for the driver to pull straight in. This plan is a wonderful way to save on cost for building and land. It is not, however, the easiest start for a student driver- especially if the vehicle has a manual transmission.
Somehow I was able to coax the car down the driveway. I'm not sure exactly how. For all I know, I may have gotten out and pushed it down the drive. That was another great thing about Dad. As long as a job got done, it didn't matter the method used. More likely, though, I spent fifteen minutes getting the vehicle's transmission into reverse, another ten minutes operating the clutch and gas pedals together, and five more creeping into the street. Thank goodness we lived in a cul-de-sac with very little traffic.
Eventually we left our small neighborhood. Out on the main street, all went well. Getting the car into its various gears, matching the speed of the cars next to ours, proved to be no problem at all. This isn't so bad, after all, I thought. I can do this. A positive attitude and Dad's enthusiastic praises kept me going- right up to the first red light.
Driving a stick-shift would be a breeze if one didn't ever have to stop. Then again, the stopping itself is not so bad. It's the going that gets rough. It's been said "when the going gets rough, the tough get going." Apparently I wasn't too tough.
No matter how hard I tried when that light turned green I just couldn't get the car to move. Dad offered kind suggestions and kept calm, but I was getting more and more frustrated. The more frustrated I became, the less the car cooperated with me.
As horns honked around me I struggled with the accelerator/ clutch combination. The Dodge Colt would hop forward, then stop dead in its tracks. Drivers swung around the compact car, sometimes waving with gestures that were not too nice. I attempted to get the car moving first through one green light, then a second. As Dad sat quietly by, I knew that he would sit with me all day if need be.
On the third green light I finally got that Colt moving. I was embarrassed and proud all at the same time. I was angry with my father for the moment, but as I look back on it I can see why he didn't come to my rescue.
There are many times in life when situations can be made easier for us. However, this wasn't one of them. Dad needed to be sure I could take care of myself before he would let me out into the world of driving on my own. I've never been stuck at a green light since then, but there have been plenty of times I've had to sit back, relax, and think things through. I learned more about life than about driving that spring day.

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