It’s not exactly Mother’s Day, but stumbling into this picture of an American suburban family in 1956 out for a little family bonding time in their Model T (grandpa’s?) reminded me of two things. One, how utterly impossible this scene would have been in my family. And two, if it had happened, how glad I would have been to have my mom at the wheel instead of my dad.
My father had a very unfortunate ability to put any and every rider in the car with him ill at ease, and that didn’t just end with family members. But my mother, although she didn’t learn to drive until we moved to the US in 1960 when she was almost forty, quickly became a relaxed and natural driver. On our memorable long-distance summer vacation trips, we’d all let out a collective sigh when my father handed the wheel over to her. Even then, he’d constantly be scanning the speedometer, traffic, and not relax. So there’s no one moment that jumps out at me; just the collective memories of those times when I was alone with her at the wheel, the sense of security and ease that was so utterly missing with him at the wheel. I learned that driving/riding could actually be a pleasant time, not a fraught one. Which is perhaps the most important one of all.
Interesting stories! Well, my mom learned to drive in her mid 20s simply because my parents moved in a suburb and she had to drive to get to work. Her first car was a blue ’84 Chevette. According to her, she was scared to do left turns at green lights where there were no turning lanes, so she used to plan her trips so she would only have to do right turns. She would go to the next street, turn right, then right again on the next one to finally turn right on the street she wanted to go to… I was born shortly after that and she had gained a LITTLE tiny itsy bit of self-confidence behind the wheel by then. She is now a fairly good driver… if she knows where she’s going. Whenever we went somewhere new and she was driving, I knew the ride would turn out to be a total disaster. I remember that she once had to drive me to a dentist appointment in her third car, a 86 white Chevette this time. It was the first time my mom actually drove me there and she couldn’t remember where to turn. Not knowing where to go, she reached the end of the street we were on. The cross street was a one-way street going right, and you guessed it, she turned to the left. She realised her mistake when she saw cars comming towards us in all the lanes, so she swerved to the right in a driveway. She started cussing and crying, telling me that she would never ever drive me there again (which she did many times). She then backed out of the driveway, driving over garbage bags full of styrofoam that were piled up on the corner. I can still remember the screeching sound the bags full of trash were making while they were stuck in the rear wheel well of the poor Chevette. We dragged them for a few miles until we finally reached the dental clinic.
I also remember when the law changed here in Quebec, Canada so we could turn right on red lights. While sitting at one, still in the Chevette, I remember my mom asking me if the law was about turning left or right. Being around 12 at the time, I didn’t really know and I told her so. A few people honking at us in the intersection made it clear that left turns were not allowed at red lights, to my mother’s surprise.
It was quite funny when my mom teached me how to drive. We were in Montreal and she was giving me advice on which street to use while going to visit my grandmother. She told me to turn right on a street she claimed to always use because it was much faster, only for me to realise it was a one way street we had taken from the wrong side… I wonder how many times she did the same move before that without realising it… That said, she pretty much only drives to go to work and there’s no one way street in her commute… reassuring!
As a beginner driver with a Learner’s Permit (requires a licensed driver in the front seat with you), I figured that I was doing OK when I saw that my Mom was fast asleep in the passenger seat as I was cruising along the expressway!
Mom and Dad bought new 1955 Pontiac 4 dr. tan and cream colored with green interior at a Prineville, Oregon dealer .Later after shopping at grocery store in Madras ( our home town) we drove to park behind Rexall drug store. Locking doors and shopped at drug store when leaving Mom commented she thought she parked further from door but we unlocked doors and drove home upon arriving we were unable to locate the grocery’s and noticed some odd papers on seat. Driving back to drug store we were greeted by an extremely agitated woman and a calm city police officer who soon realized than both 1955 Pontiacs were painted, upholstered and keyed identical. They sold me the car when purchasing a 1964 mercury Montclair for the trade in value of $125.00 I now have the Mercury and the wife and I took it on 2013 car cruise to Yellowstone with the Jasper street rod club.
I was 15 in 1973, I had a date with my friend Sue to go to the Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon concert in Buffalo NY. Mom was to drive us there and Sue’s Dad was to pick us up. On the way to the Arena for the concert Mom ran out of fuel for the 1972 Chevy Vega on the highway, RT 90. We were stuck by the side of the road.
A nice NY State Trooper came to rescue us, gave us a gallon of gas and we made it to the Pink Floyd concert in time for my date with Sue.!
Most memorable time was probably when I was 6 or 7…there was snow on the ground, not a super common occurrence in Greensboro, NC where we usually got snowfall once or twice a year. They hadn’t plowed our apartment parking lot, but I was sick with a fever and an earache and needed to go to the doctor. So we ventured out in the ’79 Malibu, but Mom had scarcely gotten out of the space when we slid clear across the parking lot and ended up with one rear wheel of the car wedged into a curb storm drain opening. No amount of rocking attempts would free it, and I had to wait until a tow truck could come extricate the car from the drain opening. She eventually got me to the doctor’s office but I don’t recall if she ever drove in snow after that.
I also find it amusing that Mom is a tiny woman, 5’1″ on a good day and 100 lbs. soaking wet, and yet she has always driven BIG cars. That Malibu was one of her smaller cars, and it was no lightweight–she’s also had a ’97 Crown Vic, an ’86 Parisienne, ’68 and ’69 Impalas, ’72 Chevelle, and learned to drive on a ’60 Ford Custom sedan. The only ones that weren’t big were her first car (’60 Valiant) and the ’91 Accord that she had to share with Dad for a bit. Didn’t like either. She now has a ’10 Grand Marquis and, barring any unforeseen circumstances, will probably have that until she no longer drives.