FOR YOUR OWN GOOD

Time, it rolls on and now another year begins. I am very conscious of the ticks of the clock…My granddaughter turned 5 in December and it seems she was just a babe in arms moments ago and as I watch her looking at a video on her own iPad that she got from "Santa" - I thought of a past New Year – one I thought was going to be the greatest ever, but…

And then I am back driving the Millville High Driver’s Training car with two sets of controls – me behind the wheel and the other on the passenger’s side manned by Mr. Neder (who smoked constantly and rumor had it that he volunteered for one of the worst jobs in education just to do so).  He was also  a science teacher and a nervous wreck from near misses by a never ending line of novice drivers. Driver’s Training with MHS high school kids was very stressful occupation.  “Whoa…Wow!”  He applied his brake pedal.  “Hey Cal, you have a heavy foot.  This is 25 miles an hour zone not 40 – watch your speed, I don’t want you to ruin my new car and spotless safety record.”

Because of the nightly football practice, I had to wait weeks past my 17th birthday to take my after-school driver’s training tour of our town’s thoroughfares.  And after several harrowing afternoon’s Mr. Neder declared, “Get some practice in your own car and take the driver’s test – I think you are ready, you are an excellent driver."  The following Sunday my dad and I went out for a long ride.  He seemed nervous too and puffed his pipe like a steam engine.  He directed me to end our practice at a big empty parking lot next to his factory office.  He put out two peach baskets with old broom handles sticking out of a hole in their bottoms.  I proceeded to practice “parallel parking” – the bane of all new drivers (and frankly after decades of driving I am still a lousy parker.)  After a couple dozen passes missing the baskets perfectly Dad said, I was ready and he would take off Monday afternoon early and we could go for the driver’s test.  I had taken the written test a few weeks before, to get my learner’s permit and missed one question – the order of colors on a stop light.  And I still can’t remember the line up, and really can’t fathom why this is an important aspect of safe driving?  Perhaps this was added for the color-blind?

I couldn’t wait for the weekend to pass.  In the study hall I daydreamed about the “great” New Year’s Eve I was going to have.  And also taking a date to the Union Lake bluffs for the winter submarine races was also topping my list of new motoring possibilities.  I drove with Dad to the inspection station in a nearby town.  We waited our turn and then an ominous looking Department of Transportation Officer in full military uniform barked, “NEXT”.   I think I saw a leering smile as I nervously got in our ‘56 Chevy stick shifting mode of conveyance.  The test began on a driving course.  I went over checklist in my mind a list of things the officer could fail me on  shared by my friend  who had already passed this torture test:

Keep both hands on the wheel – Check

Drive a few miles under the speed limit – Check

Don’t run a yellow light on stop light – Check

(And most importantly don’t put your right arm on the back of the seat when making the “K” turn.

I drove the course without a flaw and now as we came to the finish it was time to parallel park between the two ominously waving orange flags.  Mr. Stern Inspector, “Said, good job, now just park and you will be a licensed driver.  And take your time, too many of you guys  rush this part.”  I put my right turn signal on…pulled up past the first flag…checked my mirror… (this was going to be a cinch because the designated parking space was much bigger than the one I practiced on) …I backed the car into the space and I was a foot and a half from the curb – A Perfect Parking.  Thee inspector said, “good job now pull over there and I will fill out the licence paperwork.”  I had done it – with just two driver’s training sessions.  I was going to be a certified driver.  And in my moment of celebration I made a mistake that still haunts me…I pulled out of the spot much too fast and ran over a marker flag!  The inspector abruptly looked up from his clipboard.  “Hey kid you would have bashed a car if there was one in front of you, glad it was only a flag!  SORRY, I can’t let you out on dangerous holiday highways, especially New Year’s Eve.   You’ll have to come back for a re-test in 30 days!”

30 DAYS!!  I blew my driver’s test.  Yea Gods, I will be the laughing stock of the Junior class.  My friends will never let me forget this.  Many of them will be tooling around the whole holiday vacation and I will be relegated to riding my bike or walking.  No sub races.  No cruising down High Street looking for gals (that were usually nowhere to be seen)   My visions of Mister Cool Guy Driver, Sophisticated Man About Town had vanished.   Instead I would be sitting home typing my term paper on “Famous Writers of the 20th Century” which was due the week after vacation.

30 Days!!  But like all disasters this too did pass.  I returned to the inspection station in late January and only had to park rather than take the whole test again.  I pulled up, pulled in, parked perfectly and pulled away.   I had practices for  a bitter month of Sundays with Dad which made my failure even more embarrassing.   Mr. Stern Inspector handed me my paperwork and reminded me - “Sorry I had to flunk you kid – but it was for your own good.”

My own good?   I would hear this phrase many times to come as I travelled down life’s highway.