Just Get in and Drive

I remember when I first began driving. I would get in the car and drive. Nothing to it. That was it.

Then driving became something of a phobia. Yeah, probably after I rolled my car and purchased the subsequent crappy failing vehicles. I discovered a few things probably a lot faster than most other people without this kind of history.

First, accidents happen fast and at the most inopportune time. For me it was when my sister was in the hospital, my dad was out of town and I was on my way to a farm in NE instead of at the Fryn' Pan like I told my mom. I hit loose gravel and the car went out of control, rolled three times (they said) and landed in a ditch. I remember (and wrote a paper on) perception related to this experience. Helpless laughter as the car careened left, then right, then left, then right... It seemed the tiniest movement of the steering wheel yielded a greater response than anticipated. Looking at the speedometer. Then in slow, very slow motion, dirt, glass, dirt, reflection of the headlights against the weeds, unable to orient myself to what was happening, then stopped in a cloud of dust. I remember trying to start the car and grinding the starter. The engine was still going. I called for my friend. She called for me. We got out and began walking different directions. Then we found the road and headed towards the brightest lights we could see in the rural night sky. A yellow Monte Carlo approached and the man asked if we were okay. We didn't know. Yes, we needed a ride. We got in. If I recall correctly, he first drove to the accident site before taking us to the bar so we could call for help. (For the youngins, that was before the car phone was invented. Back in the day of the pay phone)
I didn't notice until after I got out of the car and he began brushing the dirt and glass off the seat that we must have been filthy with the dust, dirt and glass that flew at us. There was a group gasp when we walked into the bar. I could hear people's individual comments and one lady came over and helped us out. I now feel sorry for my mom taking the call telling her what happened. At the time, I was pretty miserable, suffering from welts and bruises and the loss of my cherished first car. I recall crying a lot for awhile. I was in disbelief for a few days afterwards.

After that car perished, it was quite awhile before I the next one. That was a fire engine red Dodge Dart with an iridescent dashboard. I purchased it for $500 from some kid from Sisseton that fixed it up himself. I am sure he chuckles about our buying that piece of work to this day. The circular marks from the buffer/sander on the cars finish should have been a big red light. The car was not reliable. Everytime I shut it off, it was likely a jump start would be needed to get it going again. When I took it to the garage to get a turn signal fixed, the mechanic laughed and said that I wouldn't want to put that much money into the car. One nice winter morning I scored a ticket and towing charge because I couldn't get it off the street before the police officer (also my neighbor a couple doors down) could ticket it. When I started it, that day, the throttle stuck to the floor and I thought it would explode it was revved so high. I don't know, nor do I care where that one went, but good riddance!

Regardless the piece of junk I owned, I never had confidence in the vehicles out on the highway. I was afraid of being stranded or losing control. If it was out of town, I didn't want to go unless someone else was driving, but still then, I couldn't relax until I was off the road and back on solid ground. Getting stranded in Omaha when the transmission failed didn't help matters. Bad roads felt like flat tires. What if a semi blew a tire in front of me? Gravel, forget it! Honestly, it wasn't until last fall, after about a month or so driving back and forth to Vermillion to complete my bachelor's that I became more comfortable driving. Still, it is never just get in and drive.