Learning To Drive (the hard way)

8/20/22

My dad has had a 1961 Porsche 356b as long as I can remember

"Why This Subject Hap?"

Since my scrambled equilibrium won't allow me to drive at all these days (Uber is great, but I still miss driving myself around), my brain decided to focus on how exactly I learned to drive in the first place. It did happen in stages, although not in the order that most people I know learned to do so. Yes, the beautiful classic red 1961 Porsche 356b pictured above does have something to do with it (but probably not in the way you'd expect).

A lot of my childhood weekends, when my parents were still married to one another, revolved around taking the Porsche around Santa Clara County to various events of the local Porsche Club of America (PCA) chapter - Auto-Crosses, Wine Tours, Picnics, Time & Distance Rallies, etc. I especially loved the Auto-Crosses, since my dad would occasionally take me as a passenger for a quick lap around a parking lot avoiding all of the pylons that were laid out for that day's course. While I loved going quickly around the temporary track, I also took these opportunities to observe exactly how this activity of "driving" actually was accomplished. Gas, Clutch, and Brake pedals (and the order in which they needed to be used) became known to me even though I, of course, was far too young to drive any real vehicle myself.

Circumstances would intervene and change this...

While Vacationing Just Before Labor Day One Summer...

...and just one month after my 13th birthday, my mom, brother, and I found ourselves camping at Pine Acres. This resort, located just outside Jackson, California, was already a huge part of my "growing up" adventure.

After their divorce from one another, my parents took my brother & I on separate vacations during each summer. While this particular vacation with my mother was less adventurous than others she had taken us on (she took us to Bryce, Zion, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Grand Canyon, and dozens of dinosaur bone burial sites during other vacations...[as well as stopping in at Disneyland on several occasions] ), I was 'happy' to be spending this one someplace I was very familiar with. We swam, played miniature golf, and my brother & I took our "daily dollar" to the clubhouse to play pinball each day (among other activities).

Sadly, this summer was also during one of my mom's worst times struggling with her alcoholism . While Edward and I played around the resort & campsite, my mom spent most all of her time drinking.

[Just an aside - my mom's drinking put such a fear in me that I was destined to be "my mother's son" and become a problem drinker too. Because of this fear, I've never had more than one beer or single glass of champagne during my entire adult life.]

Getting back to the story...

When it became time for us to check out of the campsite and head back home, my mom was passed out. My brother & I tore down the tent, and packed all of our campsite's belongings in her car hoping that she'd wake up during the time that it took us to put everything away...she didn't.

What were we to do now? - we had no money to stay at the campsite (or anyplace else) for another night, and school was to start just after Labor Day. I made the crazy decision that I was going to drive us home.

Mom's Pontiac Astra was not quite as "classic" as the Porsche

After stealing a couple of phone books from various phone booths around the resort to help make it so I could reach the pedals, and waking my mother for just long enough to ease her into the passenger seat, my brother & I piled into the car for my first driving "lesson".

I don't know about Edward, but I don't think I have ever been more frightened in my life! I had to take all of the observations from earlier in my childhood of my dad using the three pedals to make the Porsche "go" and apply it to my mom's Pontiac Astra on the fly.

Since I am (obviously) typing this entry, we did get home safely. We didn't get pulled over by the cops, I didn't wrap the car around any light posts (or hit any other vehicles), and the car didn't smell like burned-out-clutch after we had reached our destination and got out of the car.

One More Thing...

...about my mom's Astra - after I got my license and during a summer where the Bobby Sox Softball league I umpired for didn't qualify for the National Tournament, she let me borrow the car to drive all the way from San Jose to Buena Park so that I could umpire in the Tournament.

While my mom was more than 'happy' to let me borrow the car, she did warn me that the car wasn't in tip-top mechanical shape. I experienced a little of this on the drive down to Buena Park when I had issues getting the car to climb the hills of The Grapevine section of Interstate 5 located just to the north of Los Angeles. After I reached my destination I put these problems out of my mind (and probably should not have).

I spent the next two weeks umpiring in the tournament, visiting Disneyland, and driving all over SoCal...(I also fell in love [unsuccessfully] with a fellow umpire named Carla)...

When it came time for me to drive back to the Bay Area, I made sure the tires all had the appropriate amount of pressure, checked all of the fluid levels, and crossed my fingers for a (hopefully) successful trip over The Grapevine. While this wasn't nearly as frightening as my earlier driving experience documented in this entry, it was still pretty stressful. When I reached the last downhill portion of The Grapevine and headed into the flat lands, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

I probably shouldn't have done that either...

A couple of hours later while still traveling north on I-5, I suffered a blown tire. I safely pulled the car to the side of the freeway, and started to change the tire. I discovered that the spare also had a hole in it. Since cell phones hadn't been invented yet, I locked the car up, and started hitchhiking toward the next freeway exit.

After a little while walking north and baking in the sun, a good samaritan pulled over and gave me a lift to the next exit. There wasn't any city at this particular exit - only a gas station. I used the last of my money to buy a used tire. This particular oaf of a grease monkey made a mistake while trying to put the used tire on the wheel and ripped the bead out of it so that it would not hold air. He also refused to install a different tire (although he begrudgingly agreed to tow my car to his station at no charge). With no money, no tire, and no place to stay, I was pretty screwed.

I called my mom collect, and she offered to wire me some money. All I needed to do was to get to Bakersfield to collect it. More hitchhiking for me...how fun!

By the time I got to Bakersfield to get the wired money, it was too late to get a tire and get back to my car that day. I found a cheap (cheap) hotel, and settled in for the night.

"Slap Shot" is hilarious!

While I tried to relax after a very stressful day, and while the cockroaches in this abysmal hotel paraded around my room, the TV channel I tuned to started to show the movie "Slap Shot". I hadn't heard much about this movie, but I knew that it was about hockey and starred Paul Newman - I liked both of these things, so I kept watching.

I don't know if it was because of all the time I spent in the sun that day (I was pretty sunburned), or that the movie is just that good, but I never laughed so hard in my life during this first viewing of "Slap Shot"...(upon multiple viewings of the LaserDisc I later purchased of "Slap Shot", I can say that the movie is just that good...it was just funnier to me that particular night in that particular place after all of the happenings of that particular day)...

Just to make this long story slightly longer - I got up the next day, bought a tire & had it mounted, hitched my way back to the gas station, put the tire on the car, and drove the rest of the way home without further incident.

------------

Thanks again for reading this far! If you have a login to a streaming site where I might be able to watch "Slap Shot" one more time, please let me know! ;-)

This blog does have a "chat" function so, if you'd like to reach out to me to comment, give me a possible idea for another entry, or just bitch at me - please feel free to do so!