Stories

Too Young to Drive

Before I could join the Army, I had to get a waiver for my driving record. It was terrible! I had at least four speeding tickets and had three accidents to my name.

It wasn't that I was a poor driver. I went as fast as I could go, everywhere I went. We all did.

Racing in the streets of Birmingham was a popular pastime. The cars we drove went fast and straight, with big engines, on terrible suspensions, and stopped by drum brakes. 

Our favorite road was Clairmont Avenue, a residential two-lane, split in two by a grassy median, winding through the hills of Birmingham from 56th Street to Rockford Road. We would follow each other in one direction, change the lead, and then race back the other. I challenged a Mach 1, a Firebird, a Camaros, and a Chevelle SS 396 while driving a Galaxy 500 302.

It is a wonder I lived long enough to go into the Army.

Mom and Dad spent little time teaching me, expecting me to learn at school in Driver's Education. True to form, I didn't sign up for the class, waiting until all the classes were full. I spent my Spring Break after I turned 16, taking a class Dad had to pay for. He was not happy about that. The car I was supposed to drive on dates was a 1967 Dodge Coronet, canary yellow, with a black vinyl top and a 318 CID engine, Mom's car, SHARP!

My brother, Jim, wrecked it. 

He wrapped it around a sign pole on First Avenue on a rainy day. He spent some time in the hospital while I spent my teen years driving the replacement, a pea green, 1968 4-door Galaxy 500, used, a former rental car.

Thanks, Jimmy.

In his defense, he was stupid at the time, having just broken up with the sweetest girl for another girl. I liked the sweet one.

I came to love the Galaxy; we became a legend, taking on all comers. Though she was not the fastest car in the straights, I was crazy and skilled enough to beat them in the curves.

 I named it Camel. Go, Camel, Go!

The speed limit on many Alabama highways back then was "Assume Safe Speed."  To a Seventeen-year-old boy, that means as fast as your car will go. Spead and cheap gasoline, less than 50 cents a gallon, meant we could drive to Panama City, 270 miles away, for a day date.

Camel's top end was 110mph. 

When it threw a rod and busted heater hoses, Dad blamed me for the abuse I gave the car. He was probably right.

I put the first dent in the right rear of Camel, hitting a mailbox backing out of a friend's driveway. It wasn't that bad, just a scratch. I put a nice dent in the left rear, backing into a telephone pole while racing Carey in reverse.

Mom got sick of that car quickly. She needed something more sporty, more reliable, and with fewer dents. Dad bought her a 1971 Dodge Charger, royal blue with a black vinyl top and a 318. It wasn't that fast, probably just over 150hp, and it handled like a boat on high seas, but it was a beautiful car. I thought I was much cooler driving it.

On a rainy Saturday night, while driving downtown to see Vanishing Point for the seventeenth time, some guy pulled out in front of me. I jerked the wheel to the left to miss him. The car got sideways. I over-corrected, fishtailed, and slammed the right rear end into a telephone pole, sending my date, Becki, to the hospital with a gash in her head.

 I owed the city $50 for the pole, Becki had stitches, and the car was never the same. Dad was unimpressed even though the witnesses told him it wasn't my fault. I was going slow for a change.

It was also not my fault when the old guy hit my VW Bug the day after I got it.

As for the speeding tickets, beginning with the first one, I set a pattern of getting caught going just over ten mph over the posted speed, at the low end of the range, like 57 in a 45. The Law has never cited me for reckless driving or excessive speed, just for this piddly-assed chicken-shit.

I am hopeful that one day before I die, I will get pulled over by the cops doing at least 130, that I'll be 100 years old, driving the last gas-powered driver-controlled car on the road, with Springsteen on the radio, and heavily armed - "The Last Beautiful Free Soul on this Planet." ~ Super Soul, KOW Radio, Vanishing Point.