Behind the Wheel

I sat in the 1950s  army issue jeep, the family farm vehicle, with hand operated windshield wipers, dicey brakes, and a confusing array of pedals. I was in the driver's seat, breathing the smell of partially burned oil, old canvas and new hay. My brother Proctor sat in the passenger's seat, giving me instructions.

I was probably 14. Proctor was 16, recently licensed, and infinitely knowledgeable. I don't know if the driving lesson was sanctioned by my parents or not, but there I was, behind the wheel.

To give him credit, Proctor was sensible about this. After a childhood of rough and tumble games on our farm, with one or two near death experiences thrown in, this was unusual. He gave me my lesson down in the big hay field below our house where there was a lot of room to maneuver. There were no steep hills, no oncoming cars, and no obstacles.

He also probably taught me more than I needed to know, or could really absorb at one sitting. I learned which of the pedals did what, and then, how to start the jeep. I don't remember the exact order, but think I may have turned the key, dome something with the choke, or maybe the clutch, then the gas,. He taught me the mysterious pattern of the jeep's gear shift, and then we were off.

The bucket seat in the jeep was not too stable, and set back for a man's longer legs. Short, and more than a little terrified I was not steady on the pedals, so we moved jerkily around the field, leaving big erratic loops of flattened grass and wildflowers.

Then my brother told me to cross the land bridge over a small brook to the second of our haying fields. I don't remember breathing as I aimed at the narrow track, but I made it. The second field was much like the first, open, green and without obstacles. I never relaxed into the task of driving though. We still jerked our way around, crushing grass and flowers.

After a while, I braked with a few spasmodic lurches and brought the jeep to a stop, hopped out and traded seats with my brother and we were done. He did the driving up the steep hill to the house. I hopped in and out of the jeep to open and close the fences along the way, a job I knew.

Thus ended my one and only driving experience.

Since then, several friends have offered to teach me to drive. And every once in a while a family member suggests that it would be good if I could drive down from our family cabin in an emergency. I remind them of the steep, sharp curve at the bottom of the hill, the road clinging to a wall of rock and dirt,poised over a deeply cut stream bed. The offer is, sensibly, withdrawn.

I dream of driving now and then, but the dreams are not comfortable. Usually I'm in a position where I either know I Will be caught as illegal, or I know that I can't safely handle the trip. It's definitely an anxiety dream.

I even wrote a short story called "the Hot, Hot Car" in which I fantasize about "borrowing" a car and taking it for a spin. I consulted with my buddy Leeds about the technicalities, and will probably post that one here some day as well. Remember, it's FANTASY.

It took a number of years for me to realize an important truth about my non-driver status though. After a day of friends telling me of their car woes and expenses, a grumpy conversation about a $1,500 dented bumper at breakfast, a mournful tale about replacing the all-important battery on a hybrid when I ran into a friend in the co op, and a string of repair/insurance/mechanic conversations on Face book, I had an epiphany.

I have far fewer issues with not driving than most people have with car ownership, maintenance, insurance, payments, and gas. And we're not even talking about the idiocy of other drivers, bad weather conditions, and heavy traffic.

Getting around is complicated now and then, but my life is organized for not driving, so those complications are rare. I live in town, and there are weeks at a time when I don't even need to get in a car or on a bus. I can walk to groceries, pharmacy, restaurants, book stores, the movies, the theater, the post office, my doctor's office, the dentist, friends houses, music classes and jam sessions.

For the occasional trip out of town, I can usually find someone who is going my way, or I can ask a friend for a favor, knowing that I'll be feeding them dinner, teaching them a tune, helping them paint a room, or just being a friend in some fashion. There's no big deal, now big owed favor. As for the finances, I would never spend on public transit, or shared gas expenses, what a car owner spends each month on payments, gas, and insurance,

when I hear about a blown transmission, a rusted truck frame, a cracked windshield, or the irritating habits of other drivers, I'm glad my only driving experience was back in the day, in an old jeep, on a sunny, flower-studded field. Thank you Proctor.