Ro's NL Challenge_10/28
LOL, this brought back fun memories which I did want to leave for my kids. (They didn't have it much better when it was their turn, either- hahaha!)
In 1966 I was almost 16 years old and waiting to get my driver’s permit. One Saturday morning Dad left the house early, driving off in an old white station wagon, the standard “family car.” Later that morning he came motoring up the driveway, beeping the horn of a brand new, gigantic, tan Chevy Suburban. HORRORS! “Please don’t let him have purchased this nightmare,” I silently prayed. Mom, on the other hand, was not quiet when she said, “He better not have bought that thing.” Alas, he had, as we already knew, since whenever he went off on a Saturday morning he inevitably returned with a new vehicle. This would always be good for a parental battle, which would work out in one of two ways for me.....either Mom took off and I had to watch the younger kids, or she would say, “Do whatever you want. Everyone else does,” in response to me asking if I could go out that evening. That was my preferred answer.
Anyway, the monster truck was ours, and I got my learner’s permit and learned to drive the beast with stick shift and bench seats which included the “new” lap belts, those with the hard, metal clasps which burned your hands and legs if you didn’t wait for them to cool down on a hot day. Despite the fact that I almost killed Dad and myself during a practice session in which I made a 90 degree left hand turn onto the entrance ramp of I-95 while driving 55 mph, I did earn my driver’s license in this vehicle. I think the officer felt sorry for me, since not many, if any, 16 year old girls were driving these at the time. That or the fact that Dad had taught me how to parallel park in two turns, and I managed to park the Suburban between two cars in only two turns, after which the officer laughed and said, “You just got your Driver’s License.”