Conquering Obstacles (Part 26--My Car)

Who would have ever thought that my first car would be such a huge obstacle to conquer? Certainly not my father who purchased it for me, even though he knew it would still be somewhat difficult to drive despite the fact my braces were now gone. He was definitely aware that I was somewhat uncoordinated to say the least, and this challenge brought tears of laughter from both of us.

Like a good dad should, he took me out to practice driving while I was an eighth grader to prepare me for Driver's Education Class. I sailed through that course with flying colors like most young teenagers who are so eager to get behind the wheel. With a learner's permit in hand, I would beg my mother to let me drive if we had errands to do. She adamantly refused! She would never, and I mean NEVER, ride along when my dad would take me out driving. It became such a joke among us that we would continually tease her about it. She must have thought it wasn't her job as a mother, or she just wanted to see another day!

My dad surprised me with my first "new" car. He paid big dollars for it--$333 to be exact. I was elated and obviously didn't know much about cars. It was a small, boxy-looking 1963 "RAMBLER." I found this photo of one, so just picture it being cream colored and in "VERY USED" condition. That would have been my car!

What he didn't tell me was that it was not an "automatic" like not only their car, but the Driver's Education car as well. This car was a "stick shift."

I had never even seen a stick shift car, and had no idea what a "clutch" was. This was going to be by far the most interesting challenge I had encountered. We drove around the block about a dozen times while my dad showed me how to "shift" and explained how the clutch worked. I wasn't understanding a single word he said, but I loved this car.

Then it was MY turn to drive. I killed that car engine time and time again without even moving out of the driveway. He laughed so hard and kept telling me, "More gas...less clutch!" I'm thinking to myself, "what the sam hill does THAT mean? It was all Greek to me!" After at least a thousand attempts, I had finally made it to the street before the engine died once again.

Wait! I get it! It's just a matter of timing. Unfortunately, "getting" it and actually "doing" it were two different things. Every night after my dad got home from work, we'd go out driving. I was learning slowly but surely. The engine would die at every STOP sign (I needed to work on that one), and while I was chug... chug... chugging down the street, my father's favorite words were "More gas...less clutch!"

Several weeks later as I pulled my Rambler into the driveway, my father yelled, "YOU DID IT!"

Yeah for me! and thanks for being so patient, Dad!  Another obstacle overcome!

To be continued...