Driving School
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I started learning to drive years before I was legally qualified to do so on public roads. I don’t think Dad had the patience or desire to sit beside me in a car, give me driving instructions, and deal with the stress of fearing for his life while watching his son operate a motor vehicle.
Dad’s method, whether planned or accidental, was to free-range me into being a competent driver. It started with a tractor. We had a Farmall Cub tractor that we could drive around the pasture on occasion. In some ways, operating a tractor is harder than a car. It had a clutch, a brake, and a manual transmission. You had to learn how and when to shift. It also wasn’t the easiest thing to steer. The good thing was we couldn’t do much damage in a pasture.
For a short time, we also had a motorcycle. I can’t remember how that came to be and we didn’t have it long. I’m not sure, but Mom may have had some input on that going away. But while we had it we raced around the property. Again, you had to learn how and when to shift. You had to figure out the brakes.
When I was fifteen, my Uncle Bob came down from Iowa and spent a few weeks remodeling a house my folks bought. It was just up the road from the rented house were living in. Dad made me Uncle Bob’s helper. I learned some carpentry that summer, helping with that remodel.
Dad also gave me the keys to his Chevy truck. He said I could drive it between houses and haul things Uncle Bob might need. Mind you, I’d never driven that truck or any other car around that I can recall. I think in Dad’s mind it was a safe way for me to learn to drive on the road. I was self-taught so to speak.
Before I got my driver’s license, I took a driver’s education class. It helped with insurance costs. I don’t remember much about it. I was already comfortable with driving before I ever took the first class.
I took my driving test for my license in Claremore, Oklahoma. The Highway Patrolman who was administering the test had me drive around town, parking in various places and showing him I knew how to park under different scenarios. When we arrived back at the Tag Office, he said he was going to pass me but that he was doing so with some hesitation. I asked why and he explained that I seemed too relaxed to him. I did everything correctly, but I wasn’t uptight about it or something like that.
It was a strange comment. I told him that I had been driving for a long time and that was the reason I wasn’t nervous about it. I explained. He nodded. I passed.
Dad’s driving school worked.
