Vehicular Neurosis, Part I

I just read a book about emotional health.

In one of the chapters it was reported that emotional health at age 16 is a good predictor of life satisfaction.  Well, that explains a lot!

Was anyone else trying to learn to drive at age 16?

I was a reluctant student driver to begin with, but it became a necessity in our household.  My mom was a single, working mother before there were child care centers and supportive services.  We needed a second driver in the house, and my older sister was away at college.  Decision made.

Mom tried.  She took me out on the road in our old Ford station wagon.  That was back in the days when a sedan was as long as a train car and a station wagon even longer.  We set out on the suburban streets surrounding our home, mom gripping the dashboard screaming, “Jesus, God!  Jesus, God!” Sometimes she got the entire holy family involved, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”  All the while her foot was slamming down on the brake pedal that didn’t really exist on the passenger side of the car.

I signed up for the in-class driver’s education program at my high school.  It was a relief to just listen about driving though there were a couple of scary films--one about what happens when you don’t obey railroad crossing signals and another about driving intoxicated on prom night…enough imagery for a lifetime of bad dreams.

My mom agreed to pay for a few lessons from my quiet, gentle classroom instructor.  The first time my teacher picked me up at home, my mother proceeded to give him a very long list of instructions that included the places I could and could not drive.  By the time we got into the instructor’s car, he was chain smoking and ordered me to head for the top location on my mother’s “do not drive” list.
 
Finally, the day came for my driving test.  We are talking about a frigid December day in the hilly terrain of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. December in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  My mother and I arrived at the testing station.  An officer came to get me when it was my turn.  That was back in the day when a police officer commanded not just casual respect, but reverence.  We bowed our heads and said, “Yes, Officer,” while handing over the documents.  But then there was an “Oops!”  The car registration was expired!  Thankfully, mom was cool and so was the officer.  He gave my mom a verbal warning, and he and I got into the car.  I can’t say that I was rattled.  That would imply movement.  I was nearly paralyzed by that time.
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Miraculously, I passed.  That was probably due to the many times my mom had invoked the names of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I can’t say age 16 was the best year to be measuring my emotional health.  Thankfully, my state of mind did not project longevity.  I don’t think I would have made it to my high school graduation.
 

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