My First Drive

The plinky.com prompt for today suggested that I describe the first time I drove a vehicle. I can remember this drive like it was yesterday.

My ’56 Chevy wagon

It was many, many, many, many…(oh, well, you get the picture) years ago. I was 17 years old (and I’m 66 years old now). My mother taught me to drive and she did a very good job of it, I think. The first time I ever took the car out by myself (without a licensed driver in the front seat with me), I gave a ride to my sister and four of her friends. There were three of us in the front seat, and Harriet was sitting next to me. It was after dark, on a narrow road just outside town in New Jersey. I carefully slowed down as we approached a curve, and prepared to gently accelerate┬áinto the curve as Mama had taught me. Only the car didn’t slow down first although I KNOW my foot was on the brake. It seemed to speed up! I hung on to the wheel and stomped on the brake as hard as I could and wrestled the car around the curve, and it seemed like we were going faster all the time. I finally turned the car off (thank goodness this was before the days of power steering and power brakes) and stood on the brakes as hard as I could. As we pulled to a stop, I realized that Harriet’s foot had slipped off the center hump and down on the accelerator! No wonder we hadn’t slowed down. I understand how those Toyota owners felt!

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