Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The People Who Taught Me




Okay, a bit older than our car, but you get the picture.



At some point during our junior year in high school, we were required to take Driver's Education.
We didn't have to be forced.
Though most of us were farm/ranch kids and had been driving since we could see over the dashboard, none of us had ever been allowed to drive on a real road.
Okay, well, I have to admit here that some of us had.
Driven on a real road, I mean.
It's just that our parents didn't know.
Ahem.
So it was to be our first experience driving on a real road . . . officially.
The anticipation mounted as we completed every session of pre-driving training.
The lectures and films grew longer and more boring.
More and more, we craned our necks to glance outside at the shiny new car that would soon become ours.
We were getting feverish to actually take the wheel and floor the accelerator.
Finally the day came.
In groups of three, names were drawn.
And then it was my turn.
My time slot allotted.
My waiting at an end.
All right, yes, I still had to wait, but at least I knew just how long the wait would be.
Sheesh.
My group was scheduled to go out in a couple of days, after the end of the school day.
I counted the minutes.
And finally, it was our turn!
The other two students from my group slid into the back seat.
Our instructor, alias: my biology teacher, and I got into the front.
And that was when I discovered that this wasn't quite like any other car I had ever seen.
For one thing, it had two sets of foot pedals.
One on my side.
The other on his.
Weird.
We started out.
Slowly.
Though every gram of me (and that was a lot of grams) was itching to stomp that gas pedal to the floor.
We made a circuit of the town.
So far so good.
I was instructed to head out of town along the highway.
Obediently, I followed my instructions.
All went well.
We made a safe (it can be done . . .) U-turn and headed back towards town.
As we were approaching the town limits sign with its stark and very pointed suggestion of speed, I turned to my instructor. "Does that mean we need to start slowing down when we get to the sign, or should we be going that speed when we reach . . .?"
I got no further.
My teacher decided, then and there, to teach me what the second set of floor pedals was for.
He stomped on the brake.
Whereupon (good word) I had a heart attack.
Fortunately, my varied experiences on the ranch had taught me that I could still function, even when my heart had left its usual parking spot and taken up residence somewhere in the vicinity of my throat.
Did I panic?
Well, yes. Although I also remained in control.
But the lesson was well and truly taught. One didn't begin to slow down when one reached the all-important sign. One must have already achieved the strongly suggested speed limit.
Point taken.
After a few tense seconds of hands-over-the-face whimpering, both I and my teacher, we were once more off.
The rest of my turn passed without further incident.
Which was probably a good thing for my heart.
And my passengers.
We stopped back at the school and one of my team members exchanged seats with me.
I could officially relax.
For some time, we drove around the town.
Then, as we were following the dirt road north, on the far east side of town, our Social Studies teacher approached and flagged us down.
He did this is a subtle, yet clever way.
He drove past, honking, then pulled over to the right directly in front of us.
Our young driver squeaked out, "What do I do?"
Whereupon (that word again) our instructor told her to pull over behind the other teacher's car and put our car into 'park'.
Done.
She sighed and leaned back against the seat.
The four of us watched our social teacher walk around to our instructor's window.
The window was rolled down and the two began to visit.
Meanwhile, our driver was looking forward.
Towards the other car.
Which appeared to be getting . . . closer.
She stomped on the brake and quickly discovered that it wasn't we who were moving.
Ah! The other car was rolling backwards.
Need I mention that we were pulled over directly behind it?
Our driver began to shriek, "Ooh! Ooh! What do I do?! Should I back up?!"
Both teachers looked up.
Just as the 'parked' car collided with us.
Shock warred with embarrassment on both faces.
It was quickly ascertained (another good word) that no damage had been done, either to property or personnel.
And everyone went back to what they were doing before our social teacher had entered the picture.
We completed our training.
Receiving full credit and accolades.
And all of us received our driver's licenses.
It really wasn't that difficult.
Look at the guys who taught us.

7 comments:

  1. You know... I never did take driver's ed, but my 16-month-older-than-me, sister did. I had to ride along with her on her test drive. We had to make a loop to the neighboring community and back which worked out to about two hours. It wouldn't have been so bad, except the driver's ed teacher was ASLEEP most of the way! It was a little scary, but somehow we lived! haha... It sounds like your experience was quite a bit more "interesting" than my sisters though. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. There's the story to tell when the kids and grandkids go for their licence.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I didn't take driver's ed either. I learned to drive in the winter on the lake in front of our house. It was a blast :D

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thanks for linking up at the blog! I did take driver's ed as it was required to get your licence, BUT I was driving long before that ;) (but yeah, my parents didn't necessarily know, lol)

    ReplyDelete
  5. oh and I meant thinks for stopping by (not linking up) lol

    ReplyDelete
  6. AWESOME DIANE! ALL OF MY GENRES AND ADDING YOU TO TBBL

    ReplyDelete
  7. So funny, reminds me of when my Mother was teaching me how to drive and she was explaining how to manage a car on ice just as the car hit a patch of black ice...she turned us into a ditch. I still love to tease her about that one:)

    ReplyDelete

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