Use The Clutch!

My first car! Okay, so it belonged to my mom & dad. And, no, neither one of those men are my dad. I just didn't have a decent picture of the real thing...okay??

"Use the clutch!" Words that still echo in my ear coming from Mr. Cato, my high school driver's ed instructor.

Clutch? I don't see no stinkin' clutch! Which is probably why the "training" car with the manual (on the steering column back then) transmission died halfway up the steep Southern Indiana hill. (In case you're unfamiliar with the terrain, the southern part of the state is known for rolling hills and valleys.)

"Put on the brake," he said, through clenched teeth. (Mr. Cato had virtues. Patience was not one)

Note 1: He was also the varsity basketball coach, known for ripping off his sports jacket and hurling it to the sidelines within 10 seconds of the start of the game.

"Now, ease out on the clutch as you push down on the gas pedal."

Clunk! Clunk! Sputter! Sputter...die....

(Sigh) "Put on the brake...again. Ease up on the clutch and give the car some GAS!!"

"Yes sir." I gulp, glancing sideways toward the passenger seat. Whew. Mr Cato is in a short sleeve shirt. No jacket to hurl toward me.

Meanwhile, Jimmy, Pat and Crissy were in the back seat, laughing hysterically...which wasn't helping my concentration. I shot them a dirty look, which brought on more laughter and a couple of snorts.

Finally! I made it up that hill, only to encounter another steeper climb on the other side. I exhaled. Can I possibly make it up a second hill? But, then it came to me. More speed! No need to use the clutch. This driving thing won't get the best of me!

I floored it! Up that hill, down another and up the next. Yep, I'm getting the hang of this.

Mr. Cato's death grip on the dash and silence from the back seat, said it all.

Note 2: Don't try this at home! Back in my day, the roads were practically empty and we had all the real estate in two counties to practice our driving skills. And, in case you're interested, here's a real picture of my first car! In black and white because we didn't take color Polaroids in the "olden days." F-85, red (see pic at top) and white Oldsmobile with red bucket seats, and automatic transmission.

Got a story about your first driving experience? Leave a comment!

Mary Cunningham, author Cynthia's Attic Series
Mary Cunningham Books
Cynthia's Attic Blog

I Had A Fast Car...

Dear Diary,

Even though I’ve found happiness here (finally!), I can’t help but think of the world I came from. My friends, my family, my job…and there are so many simple things that I miss, like turning on the radio or the television any time you want to, taking a shower whenever you’re dirty, toothpaste, cell phones…you get the drift.
Out of all the things I had, though, I have to say the one I miss the most here is my car. It’s not that I had a tricked-out sports car or anything—it was a Subaru Outback sedan, kind of a maroon color, but I loved it.

I miss it for the obvious reason, of course—we’ve made most of this trip on either horseback or foot, except for the very memorable dragon ride—and that takes a toll, not to mention time. It’s become a fact of life now that, when I roll myself up in the blanket next to the fire at night, my back hurts, my legs and my feet ache, and I’m exhausted.

You don’t realize how much cars protect you, either, from the dust and pollen in the air, bugs flying in your face and down your shirt, and of course, from crazy alien guys attacking you with spears. I never thought about how safe being encased in that glass and steel capsule made me feel until I didn’t have it anymore.

But there’s the memories, too, and I think that bothers me more than anything. Memories of driving in the summer with Shannon and Ashleigh, all the windows down, singing to the radio at the top of our lungs, our hair whipping each other in the faces. And sitting in the parking lot of Rita’s with a strawberry ice, bare feet propped up on the open windowsill, talking and giggling and slurping Italian ice…having a car, and being in a car, kind of symbolizes being carefree to me now. And carefree is something I don’t know if I’ll ever be again.

--June

June is the heroine of Surviving Serendipity, by Jacquelyn Sylvan. Buy now at Amazon or Quake Direct!