Grugger’s Way

My First Time: To Drive a Car

My theme this week will be “firsts.” As we get older our memories of “firsts” probably become more exaggerated as our memory ability lessens. That can be good. An exaggerated memory is better than none at all, I say.

My first memory of driving a car sticks in my mind because I was EIGHT years old. The car was a 1950 Ford. I know that from old photos we still have. It was light green. It had a throttle as well as a manual choke.

My Father decides I can drive the car from the barn to the highway. He says to me: “Let out the clutch and step on the gas.” So I “popped” the clutch and “floored it”!

Dirt and gravel flew to high heaven and I remember my Dad yelling at me to hit the brake. He finally hit the brake before we hit the highway. (Note: The “highway” probably had ten cars an hour in those days, which was in the year 1955.)

Then he set the throttle so the engine would just keep a little “way” on and so all I had to do was steer as we drove up the highway to the Silver Spur Bar. Then he turned the car around and I “drove” home. It was about a quarter mile each way and I thought I was pretty hot stuff.

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