My dad woke me up early one Saturday morning in September. I was 16 1/2, back when I was still measuring halves, so early meant before 2 P.M. He informed me that we would be going to the DMV so I could get my license. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and looked for a clean shirt. My first drivers' license picture is testament to the fact that I had probably stayed up late the night before. I had been delayed in getting my license because I carried a full load of classes and orchestra, which meant I had no time during the school year to take drivers' ed. I took it during the summer; a fairly painful experience with Mike Rogowski (who was also the athletic director) and, as fate would have it, with an ex-boyfriend. Mr. Rogowski was a very austere man. He would bark out orders at us like "make a lane change when traffic allows," then grip the steering wheel so that we wouldn't drift into the other lane when we checked over our shoulder. He was very intimidating. Way back then, there was no log that had to be kept. I was not required to drive in different weather conditions. I didn't have to drive a certain amount of hours. I was not mandated to drive at night. (This information will become important later in the story.)
The driving test was more simple than I thought it would be. The tester took me around Elgin's finer sights. I had to make left-hand turns, right-hand turns, back up for about 20 feet and make lane changes. All in all, a fairly easy endeavour. I was ecstatic when I received my license on the first try and drove home with my dad riding shotgun. I was now free (or so I thought). I am happy to report that in the years since, what is to follow must have become a cautionary tale for stricter licensing procedures.
My first car was my dad's blue Honda Civic. I loved it. It was a beater car but it ran well and didn't cost an arm and a leg to gas up. I was proud to be able to drive to school and drive myself home from swim practice and to all sorts of other places. I should mention that this car was a manual transmission. My dad insisted that I should learn how to drive one. He took me into a corporate campus near our house and we practiced--clutch, shift, gas...I did take a few turns into parking lots in fourth gear but all in all, I did pretty well. I started being the one who could help people avoid the humiliation of a bus ride home. It didn't make me hugely popular, but it did increase my friend base a bit.
I totalled my dad's Civic on a rainy day. I was headed to see my doctor and the road was slick. I was coming down a hill and the overpass blocked my view of a Cadillac sitting at the stop light. I slammed on the brakes and all that did was make a sickening sound and have me slide with a large crash into the back of the Cadillac. Owing to the Civic's body style, I basically ended up underneath the Cadillac. The damage to that car was minimal. Mine, on the other hand, looked like an accordion. In that moment, I was not worried about the other driver or anything else; I was worried about the wrath of my father. Even though the entire front end of the car was smashed, I was hysterically crying and trying to fix the back seat. I remember there being a policeman there but I think owing to my state of mind, he never issued me a ticket.
I am a little hazy on the sequence of next cars. I am pretty sure after that I drove a little Honda hatchback. My biggest problem with that car was that I was constantly locking myself out of it (while running). I finally acquiesced to my dad's suggestion to hide a key under the car; he was tired of having to drive all over to deliver the spare key from home. It was structurally a very sound car and it lasted me for a while.
I also drove my dad's red Escort for a while. My parents were in Mexico and had asked a family friend to babysit me. My brother was gone somewhere, too, I think to Pennsylvania to see my grandparents. I was in charge of his paper route. I pulled into my neighbor's driveway to deliver his paper and, of course, locked the keys in the car (while running). He helped me slim jim it open, but from that point on, you had to roll the window down in order to open the car door from the outside. The most significant event in this car happened in downtown Carpentersville. I had been feeling the car shimmy for a couple of days. I kept meaning to mention it to my dad, but for one reason or another kept missing him or crossing paths or something. That particular day I had gone to Spring Hill Mall for something. When I was walking to my car, the thought crossed my mind to check the lugnuts on the wheels. At my dad's insistence, I had learned to change a flat tire and the oil, so I knew what to do. I dismissed the thought, got in the car and drove off toward home.
I was passing a large church when the oddest thing happened. I felt the front end of my car fall and bring me to a screeching halt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the tire from the front of the car careen off into the park across the street. No exaggeration. There I am, on 72, missing a wheel and blocking traffic. I was dumbfounded. A policeman came by to help me block traffic and a man who was in the park brought my tire back. I thought him very kind, but then he informed me that the tire had almost hit his child. He was actually peeved with me; I guess he thought that I had aimed the tire at his child. To this day, I can't believe that he was so upset with me. I wish I could see him now and assure him that it was never my intention to almost hit his child with the tire from my car.
While standing there, waiting for the tow truck, the policeman pointed out that my license plate sticker had expired. Luckily, he showed me some grace and didn't write me a ticket. When the tow truck arrived, I hoped it would be an easy fix--he could get a couple of lugnuts off of the other tires, put the errant (and apparently, almost murderous) tire back on and have me on my way. Unfortunately, he had to tow me around the corner, which ended up costing me $200 I really didn't have. Thanks very much, Pete's "A" Towing.
Yes, but the coup de gras is even more amazing. I had moved to the south side of Chicago to live with my dad. I was attending Chicago State University and had a final for my basic computing class. For reasons I can't fully remember, I was driving my dad's (newer model) Dodge. I think my hatchback finally gave out, I can't really remember. I had spent the night before at my mom's house in Elgin. That morning, I left for my final, having borrowed money from my brother for gas. I decided I would stop at the ATM before going to my final so I would be able to pay him back that night. I was driving on 59 and turned left onto Bartlett road. I noticed they were doing construction on the shoulder and needed to turn right to go into Dominick's. There were sawhorses out because they had just poured cement. There were two entrances into the parking lot; in front of the one entrance was a space between the sawhorses big enough for a car. I figured that was where I should turn in. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Let me explain what happens when you drive into wet cement. You immediately sink to the bottom. Panicked, I got out of the car and ran across the street to the gas station (this was the same gas station where I had previously-and accidentally- let all of the air of the tires of a rented minivan--I was only trying to help). I asked them to call a tow truck. The poor tow truck operator was up to his elbows in cement trying to get it out. I don't know first-hand, but I was told that when wet cement gets onto your arms and dries it's pretty painful.
There went another $200 in tow truck fees. He towed me someplace where they could fix the tire (wet cement does nothing for car tires). The people there did as much as they could to knock the cement off the bottom of the car, but of course, wet cement is not designed to stay wet. I took it to a car wash where I also tried to have them clean it off. I never told my dad any of this. He did tell me, though, years later, that when he had sold it he did come to find out that there was cement on the underside of the car. Meanwhile, I missed my final and had the distinctly humiliating benefit of having to explain to my professor why I had missed the final.
My next car was a Ford Probe. It was red and had a lot of buttons; my dad joked that when we pulled into the parking lot of the used car dealership there was a spotlight on it. I drove that car until it died. It was very fun to drive, but it had all electronic controls. This is fine when they work. However, for reasons I don't quite understand (it wasn't a simple fuse issue) they all went out. Hence, for the last few months I drove the car I never knew how fast I was going, how many miles I had travelled or how much gas I had in the car. I ran out of gas in the middle of Lake Cook Road and had to ride in a patrol car to get gas for it. One positive about the car was that just about anything would unlock it; I needn't worry about locking my keys in. A quarter, a coat hanger, really any foreign object in the lock would work.
I also owned a Hyundai Accent for a while. It was a great car. It was a manual transmission and had no power windows or other similar upgrades. I left a can of Diet Coke in the cupholder one cold night, though, so for the 4 1/2 more years I owned it, I only had one (of two possible) cupholder spaces. Apparently, I had missed the lesson in science class about what happens to liquid when it freezes. I also got into an accident in that car, but it was only partially my fault. I was able to have it fixed and it ran great for two or three years after that.
Now I own a Honda Odyssey and I have done pretty well with the two we've owned. Well, that was until last December when I totalled the garage door. I guess I should have made sure it was up before I put the van in reverse.
I can guarantee that everything I just wrote about is absolutely true. I wish I had pictures of the car sitting in wet cement. Now I could have put those online and probably made some money. Other than that, the state of Illinois has yet to take away my license. I'm not saying they shouldn't have, I'm just saying they haven't yet.
I wonder what I'll write about next....
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