My daughter was home from school over the holidays and teaching her how to drive was one of the top items on our to-do list. She has had her permit for a while, but we have not done much work toward logging her practice hours.
Most of this task has fallen to my husband. The main reason is my anxiety and tendency to panic. However, there is another issue that factors in and gives me pause when it comes to teaching Josie. I was a terrible driver in my youth. So bad, in fact, one of my friend’s dads nicknamed me Crash. It was a solid and accurate nickname.
I know most 16-year-olds are not the best drivers, but I was epically bad. I maintain that part of my problem was the size of the vehicle I had access to. It was a Caprice Classic Station Wagon from the early 80s, complete with wood paneling sides. Sexy.
Just seeing over the ginormous hood of this car was a feat. I was barely five feet tall. However, big, uncool wheels were better than no wheels at all. I drove the hell out of that station wagon.
Bertha, the name I gave the car, and I had several incidents. The one that best illustrates my lack of skill behind the wheel, is the time that I hit the same man twice in one night. Yes. You read that correctly.
I was cruising the back roads with a few friends one weekend. As an adult with a teenager, I know this is a terrible idea. Thinking of my daughter doing it stresses me the fuck out. Living in a rural area is my only defense. There wasn’t much to do for fun and it was the 80s! Anyway, the road was narrow and I accidentally sideswiped a man in a truck. He was a nice man. We couldn’t see the cars due to a lack of light out in the middle of nowhere, so we decided to go back into town and survey the damage.
Turned out to be minor and we were going to go about our business. As we were leaving the parking lot, I backed into this same poor man with my land yacht. This crash did way more damage than the first incident. We called the police.
In preparation for the arrival of the law, I told one of my friends to get my registration and insurance card out of the glove box. Whilst digging around for those items he found a big tube of vampire blood. Don’t ask. I have no idea how that got in there. He begged me to let him put some on his face before the cops arrived. I refused.
During my teenage years, I also managed to run over a huge shrub in someone’s yard, run off the road multiple times and basically just serve as a menace on the roads of Adams County, Ohio.
I would like to tell you that my driving improved in college, but during a road trip from Kentucky to Kansas for a friend’s wedding, I ran a Volkswagen Cabriolet off a cliff in Indiana. I had my future husband and two friends in the car. After a very bumpy and intense ride down the cliff, we came to a stop at the bottom. All I remember is my friend, Mick, saying very calmly, “Fuck. I got Nicki wine glasses.” For the record, the fragile wedding gift in the trunk was fine. Other than the car, nothing was broken. It had to be towed back to Kentucky and we rented a car to make it the rest of the way to the wedding.
Even though I’m a decent driver now, just knowing how bad I was and thinking of Josie on the roads makes me physically ill. I fret about it constantly.
I just pray she takes it more seriously than I did and realizes it is one of the most dangerous things she will ever do. I also hope she has enough sense to embrace technology, use the backup camera I didn’t have and, for the love of God, not hit the same person twice in one night.
Angela Traver
What is this blog about? Well, it's a general blog, but it is also a very specific blog. If you get that reference, you get a gold star! I have been a public relations professional and writer of press releases for more than 20 years—primarily in the booze biz. I decided to do some writing for fun and embrace the humor that gets me through most days. Hopefully it will make you chuckle—or at least smile. I’m a certified crazy magnet, and more than a little nutty myself, so buckle up. Also, I have two vices—profanity and red wine/whiskey. You’ve been warned. It should also be noted, that I’m a HUGE Bob & Sheri fan. I’ve been a listener for more than 20 years. This opportunity is a dream come true and it may have made me cry. That being said, I cry at everything. If you are into booze, dogs, food and/or knitting, hit me up on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter (although I’m terrible at Twitter and it scares me) @kyspiritsgal. You can also find all my previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com.
