I taught my grandma to drive.
Really, I did.
I was just a little kid, maybe 6 or 7 years old at the time.
She was in her late fifties, which to a kid is like being a prime candidate for the Rocking Chair Brigade.
Now, I consider that age as the prime of life but that's another story.
Anyway, my grandma somehow managed to make her way around the farm and down to the Jefferson General Store without ever learning to drive.
With all those children of hers and lots of friends and family around, I guess it just wasn't an issue.
Then everyone grew up and moved away and grandma started to experience transportation problems.
That's when I came along.
See, grandma and I spent a good part of the summer together every year.
And as much as I loved watching the garden grow and listening to the cows moo, every once in a while I wanted to go to the Dairy Queen in town and get an ice cream cone.
So when someone suggested that Grandma needed a car, I became a lobbyist for the automobile industry.
"Bigmama," I said, "I think it's a great idea for you to get a car.
Then we can go to the mall in Marshall on the weekends.
We can go fishing down at the Lake 'O the Pines and we can go visit all of your friends.
" Grandma mixed that thought up with her snuff and chewed on it awhile.
Finally, she spit, "Yep, I reckon I do need a car.
" That was it.
When she spoke, things happened.
A few days later, one of my uncles turned up with a lovely green four-door car.
It was used but it ran well.
Now, it is possible that there was some driving instruction given but I did not witness it nor did I see much evidence of it on our first trip down the narrow, bumpy roads of east Texas.
Have you seen those kids on the bumper cars that just kind of go straight until they hit something? Well, we didn't hit anything but it wasn't for lack of trying.
This saga occurred long before seatbelts were mandatory but even as a second grader I knew that I needed to be tacked tightly to that car seat.
She caught on to the accelerate and brake thing pretty quickly.
It wasn't much different from the tractor, I suppose.
But you have a little more room to maneuver a tractor.
I wasn't afraid, mind you.
I've always had a great sense of adventure.
But in retrospect, I should have been afraid.
I remember getting all dressed up to go to town.
Grandma would rev up the engine a few times and off we'd catapult down her long, dirt driveway.
I usually started the lesson with, "Watch out for the mail box, Bigmama.
" The mailbox was leaning any way so it wouldn't have been a great loss if we'd hit it but I didn't want anything postponing my parfait.
A mile or so later, I'd say, "You're doing fine Bigmama but there's something in the road ahead.
" "What's in the road?" she'd ask without ever slowing down.
Looking back through the rear view mirror, I replied, "It was a possom.
Now it's somebody's dinner.
" We'd chuckle and keep on trucking.
Folks would wave from their porches as we drove by.
If we weren't near a curve in the road, I'd take a chance on releasing my death grip on the dash board and wave back.
Fortunately, we always reached our destination and we never hit anything larger than a possum.
Yep I'm pretty proud of my role in my grandmother's driver's education.
Wait.
You're not going to believe what just happened.
My mom called and I was retelling this story and she said, "You didn't teach Mama to drive.
Mama learned to drive and got a license in 1948.
Her blood pressure was real high at one point and she stopped driving for a long time.
Then, she started driving again when you were a little girl.
" That's messed up.
I had this wonderful memory and it's all, well, partially, wrong.
Still, I'll allow that my grandma was driving before I was born but there is no way, no how she ever passed the driver's license test! Copyright 2009 Monica F.
Anderson.
All Rights Reserved