CARS & LEARNING HOW TO DRIVE

CARS & LEARNING HOW TO DRIVE
C 2009 JoJo

As a matter of interest, I didn’t learn to drive until I was 32 and 8 months pregnant with Mike, my youngest son! We’d just moved to a town where there was no bus service – needs must and all that. At first, hubby tried to teach me – husbands and wives cannot teach each other anything! Absolutely fatal to even try – just leads to fights and arguments.

“You didn’t tell me I had to put out the left hand indicator! How was I to know that? How in the hell do I do that anyway? Where IS the left hand indicator? Well, how was I to know that’s where it was?”

“No, I didn’t look in my rear view mirror before making that lane change! Why didn’t I,you ask? BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T BLOODY TELL ME TO DO IT, that’s why!”

“Oh, you assumed I’d know? I have never driven a car before and you shouldn’t assume I’d know ANYTHING!”

Well, eventually we came to our senses and I went to a driving school. My first instructor was a very nervous chap who kept saying “Pull over into the road – if you don’t, we’re going to go into that ditch over there.” He lasted one lesson, then I got another fellow who was much calmer. Eventually I went for both my written and practical tests and passed them both. The instructor handed me my brand new driving license and said “Now go out there and learn how to drive!” Not reassuring words, those.

I used to have to drive down into Montreal, for my weekly preggers doctor’s visits, and there was nothing I loved better than seeing a great big lumbering semi truck, puddling along at 20 mph, because then I could tuck myself in behind him and nobody would hassle me for going too slowly!

The worst drivers on the road are young men under the age of 25! They are aggressive and love bullying women drivers. It’s not easy to bully me – having grown up with a bully, I give as good as I get! One time, I was in a line up at the grocery store, to have my groceries loaded into my trunk/boot (it was called “car order” and a young lad would do it). Anyhow, the line up was slow. A young guy tried to force his way in front of me and muscle me out. I edged forward and with gestures told him to get behind me in the queue where he belonged. Calling me names and giving me the finger, he got behind me. Suddenly, I was jolted forward – the bastard had deliberately rammed into my back fender! I looked in my rear view mirror, and he was laughing his head off and making rude gestures. I thought to myself, buster, you’d better not do that again. But he did, only harder! Now, I should mention I was driving a huge Ford Colony Park Station Wagon, while he was driving a Toyota piss box. Anyhow, I edged as far forward as I could, and slammed into reverse! Wham! I looked in my rear view mirror and the look of shocked astonishment on his face is one I’ll never forget. His face was white, his mouth hung open and he was totally stunned. He didn’t expect a woman to retaliate to his bullying tactics. There wasn’t another peep out of him, nor did he come to my window to confront me! I think he figured I was a crazy woman and he’d best keep out of my way and treat me with the respect he would’ve given me, had I been a man!

When my husband worked in Montreal, there was a German guy there named Erhardt whom we both loved. He was a really big and strong man. Whenever the Montreal telephone directory got updated, Erhardt loved nothing more than grabbing an old one, and ripping it in half with his bare hands. He went around the entire Company offices doing this, in order to impress the cute secretaries. He was as strong as an ox. Anyhow, one night, he was driving along a Montreal street, when a man cut him off. Erhardt followed this guy until he’d driven to a dead end road, got out of his car, went to the man’s window and said

“You cut me off. You vil nut do zat again, ya?”

Then Erhardt got back in his car, was overtaken by this same guy, who once again cut him off. So yes, Erhardt chased the man down, yanked open his car door, pulled the guy out of his car and lifted him bodily onto his car hood, and slapped him around a bit.

“I tole you nut to do zat again,” he said quite affably (he didn’t lose his temper or anything) “But you didunt lizzen to me, schweitzen, zo I haff to tich you a lizzon, ya?” Trembling from head to foot, the guy got back into his car and Erhardt drove away! The guy did learn his “lizzen” because he didn’t cut Erhardt off again.

One time, Erhardt brought his VW Beatle around for my husband to help him repair it. (Hubby is very mechanically gifted and had repaired all our cars throughout the years). Erhardt put the parking brake on, went to the front of the car and lifted it up high off the ground. “Ya D,” he said to hubby “You kin get onder zee car now – I vil holt it up for you.” Yeah, like my hubby would do that! He jacked it up, put blocks under the wheels and then got under the car.

One time, Erhardt actually took the car engine out and disassembled it – into his bathtub! He never did succeed in putting it all back together again. How he showered with a tub full of car engine, I really don’t know. He ended up throwing both the gutted Beatle and its engine out.

Erhardt was also very partial to smoking marijuana, and he actually grew it himself for his own consumption on his veranda. I told him how dangerous that was, and that if a sharp eyed cop were to spot it, he (Erhardt) would be in deep doo doo.

“No, zat vunt happin,” he said, “Cops dunt look up at apartmint warandas – zey too beezy geevink out parkink tickuts.” He threw his head back and laughed uproariously. Well, I guess he was right, because he never got into trouble for growing weed!

What a delightful, eccentric and totally lovable bloke he was! We miss him!