There wasnt anything I dreaded more than driving a car. When it came time to get my drivers license, I was the biggest fraidy cat east of the Mississippi. I don't even remember how many of those little paper permits I went through. Finally mom said she wasn't renewing my permit anymore, and I was going to be a toothless little old lady waiting for a ride everywhere I wanted to go. I think the "toothless little old lady" scared me more than "waiting for a ride". So I bit the bullet and took my test.
My first lesson riding with dad cured him of ever riding with me again. We had two cars, they were both station wagons. The one had power steering and power brakes, the other one did not. There was nothing 'power' about that old Dodge Dart wagon. When Dad announced that I was driving him to Harrisburg in the Dart, every one of my grey hair roots withered and died!
I didn't hear too many groans from the passenger seat till we got to the Harrisburg exit. Driving on the interstate I had forgotten what car I was driving. As we sped toward the stop sign, Dad kind of rose up out of his seat, he was pushing on the dashboard and the floorboard. I got stopped, just barely!! When I had to make a right turn, I might as well have been driving a semi, I took up every available lane. I got one of his famous frowns and a few choice words that I don't remember. I can almost guarantee he was wishing he had never suggested this little outing.
My first and only car was a 67 Volkswagon bug. I loved that little car. He was definitely not a Herbie, though he did have a terrible attitude. I had to push him to get him started more than I used the key.
When Rob and I got married, I gave the little car to my brother. Rob hated that car. I could never figure out why!! :)
As the years passed, I actually got to the place where I enjoyed driving. As long as it was just the car. Rob wanted to teach me to drive his tractors but that was not happening, I would milk the cows before I would learn to drive a tractor.
One day the hired man was busy, Rob needed somebody to haul water to the fields he was spraying. My first reaction was "I can't!!" I could drive his pickup, but a trailer load of water hooked on the back? forget it!
He got the truck and trailer pointed in the right direction, I drove it to the sprayer, he turned it around and I drove it back to the farm.
Then came the day he needed another load of water!! I had to back the trailer beside the milkhouse and fill the tanks with water. I don't know how I did it without knocking down the milkhouse, but I did get the second load back to him.
Fast forward several years, I have changed my position. I am now the biggest fraidy cat west of the Mississippi. Since moving to Idaho, I have driven every vehicle on the place. Several occasions it has been with tears running down my face, hands gripping the steering wheel, praying I survive so I can tell my rancher husband that I quit!! ....but I never do. I continue to be a gluton for punishment.
I must confess, there are times I have him praying he survives so he can tell me I'm fired...but he never does!
He taught me to drive the tractor, a vehicle I have been deathly afraid of for more years than I can count. He stands on the wagon and throws off hay for the cows as I drive the tractor through the pasture. There are times I have him hanging on for dear life when I go a little too fast, or else he is back there doing the two-step trying not to fall off because I have either stopped too suddenly or else taken off too quickly.
My most harrowing experience was several weeks ago. Rob had bought a F350 diesel pickup and was trying to sell his F250. The man coming to look at it had a two hour drive. When he was about 20 miles from our place he called Rob, he had a set back and wondered if Rob would bring the truck out to him.
The day before we had a lot of drifting. The snowplows had gone past several times so he figured the roads would be open.
Rob gave me a choice of trucks I wanted to drive, I don't remember agreeing to this rendezvous but I wanted the truck that handled the easiest. I found myself in the 350, following him out the driveway. About a mile out the road I started to wonder what possessed me to think that I could even do this. The road was only one lane and our neighbor Travis's 4-wheeler was sitting smack dab in the middle. I didnt even look to see what Travis was up to, I kept my eye on the truck in front of me. Rob dug into the snowdrift and made it around the 4wheeler. I followed his tracks into the snowdrift and around the 4wheeler. If it doesn't get any worse than this I think I can handle it. We went another mile, around the corner and I realized this part of the road wasn't plowed. There was a path through the snowdrifts, the drifts were rubbing both sides of the truck, and were as high as the windows. Rob was still going, so I kept following him. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers went to sleep, the tears were running again. I started talking, pretty loud, " Lord, I don't know what your plan is, I'm not even sure what you are trying to teach me. This is not my idea of fun. I did not move to Idaho to drive through four feet of snow, I don't even like snow!!" As I kept talking, I gradually became calmer. We have 4 neighbors in a seven mile stretch, all but one had a vehicle on the road that I had to go around. At one point something hit the side of the truck with a terrible bang, I thought I had lost Rob's shovel. It was still on the back when we got to the meeting place, so I must have just got a little too close to a snowbank.
The fellow bought the pickup so I was all too happy to let Rob back in the drivers seat.
I don't know what God.... (and Rob) have planned for me the next several months but I hope it has nothing to do with "learning new driving skills!!"
