First solo trip

Growing up in the Midwest almost requires that kids get a license early and start driving just for the sake of getting around. I was no exception, getting my "farm" drivers license the first Friday after my 14th birthday in January of 8th grade, and only waiting that long because they only did driving tests on Fridays. For the first few months my driving experience was limited to the back and forth the 5 miles into town for school and church, then over the summer my range expanded to back and forth to work, which was 23 miles each way. Most of that driving had been on a motorcycle as well, as I did and do generally prefer them over cars and the fuel mileage was a lot better on a 250 Yamaha 4-cyl street bike than it'll ever be in any car. I didn't really go more than 25 miles from home then until I had had my license for almost 8 months, when I went the 55 miles solo to Sioux Falls, SD to go school clothes shopping by myself.

Now to this point in my life my mother had always procured my school clothes for me, usually by trying things on at the local Sears or K-Mart and mail ordering from Sears, JC Penneys, and Wards. We didn't have a lot of money, so the wardrobe usually consisted of whatever from last year still fit and 5 new shirts, 3 new pants, and a couple new packs of scivvies and socks. Usually they were also the cheapest clothes available, much to my teenage embarrassment. Things were even worse because of the hand nature had dealt my physique, being at the end of middle school not quite 5' tall and over 180#. That working summer, though, walking 8-12 miles a day through corn fields all summer and simultaneously experiencing a major growth spurt, I was going back to school 4+" taller and 50+ pounds lighter, and looking good. The school clothes for this year needed to reflect that, and my Mother saw it as much as I did.

So, we struck a deal that would last the rest of High School. She would figure up her usual fall clothing order, and I had veto power over anything I chose. If I vetoed something she would give me half the item's value towards buying suitable replacements myself and order the rest. This meant that if I wanted name brand jeans or shoes I wouldn't be shouldering the cost burden entirely myself, and it freed Mom up a little $ to spend on my siblings instead. As I was working as well this was a great, and we agreed fair, plan.

So, that fall before my Freshman year of High School, I set off in my recently acquired Datsun 610 for Sioux Falls armed with a summer's worth of savings, a new check book, and some cash from Mom. (The Datsun had replaced my first car, the Opel Manta posted about before, because it had slot mag wheels, was a hard top, and didn't suffer from any rust issues.) It was the tail end of August, the car had no AC, and the torn shift boot was letting hot and exhausty air inside the car, but all was good in my world.

This was back when even on the Interstate speed limits were still 55. I was brave and foolish though, and pushed it up to just over 60 for the whole trip. I passed a couple cars, was passed by even more, and I waved as I could to every one of them. What more could a 14 year-old have ever wanted? The trip went by smoothly enough and soon I was getting off the 41st street exit in Sioux Falls, onto what I believe is the busiest road in the entire State, at the time 2 lanes each way with a suicide/turning lane in the center. The mall was right there, though, a quick right hand turn just off the Interstate, so I was soon in the relative safety of the parking lot.

The mall was walked, clothes were purchased, with only one snag from a merchant that wouldn't take a check with a #<250 from a 14 year-old. Seemed so unfair at the time, but looking back now I wonder why anyone took any of my checks. All was loaded in the car, and I was off to make a quick jaunt around town. Not knowing my way nearly as well around Sioux Falls then as I would come to know the city, I missed the turn lane onto Minnesota Dr. and ended-up continuing straight on 41st street. Even at 14, though, I was well trained at the fine art of vectoring, so I made a couple lefts to get back to where I had meant to go.

And then it happened.

I was cruising along, building up a good head of steam, and I boldly blew clean through an intersection without even noticing the traffic light. I blatently ran the red and didn't notice until I was well past the interection and saw it in the mirror. Luckily there had been no one at the intersection, including Johny Law, so it was a no-harm, no-foul situation, but it left me completely shaken and I had to pull over and let the tremors pass. I came very near to crying, even, because the thought running through my head was what if someone had done that to me while I was on a bike? I would have been kersplut.

After I had calmed down some, I high-tailed back to the Interstate and booked for home, 54 mph the whole way. It was weeks before I drove a car again, and years before I told anyone the story. The shame and terror of it still twinge me, and I've done much worse things on the road since. I often wonder, now, if anyone else looks at their close calls the same way? I see kids (and adults) doing stupid stuff daily, and I think I must have been in a very small minority then. Too bad for all of us, eh?

Been a while, but here's another:

My first semester at college my folks wouldn't let me take a car because they felt I should save some $, it would be too dangerous for a rural kid in Houston, and because they didn't think my Opel would make it all the way there. (1159 miles, BTW) My roommate was in the same boat, and we were quick to learn that there is nothing within walking distance of the University of Houston. We also learned that the bus was less than reliable in Houston, and we were too scared to ride it in our neighborhood anyway. (My what a dumb kid I was.)

That left us needing a car, or at least perceiving that we needed one, and sooner rather than later. I had found another Opel for sale in New Orleans through Hemmings Motor News that looked to be just the ticket, but how to get over to get it? If one of us could get a car, even for a weekend, we could drive over and fetch it, I thought. While discussing options in a Calculus class I should have been paying more attention in one of my classmates offered up her grandparent's place on Lee St . in New Orleans as overnight lodging, on the condition that we take her with us. This seemed reasonable, and free, so the agreement was made and plans penciled in for the first weekend in December.

We still needed a car, though. About this time my engagement to my HS sweetheart still in SD going to State was spiraling down the toilet, and I though if I could just get home I could maybe save it. My plight was desperate, but somehow all the weirdness of the world culminated in a 4-part plan to get me home for Thanksgiving, and returning with my car.

Here's how the trip was planned out: A casual acquaintance also at UH turned out to be from the north-central part of SD. She had a car, but was pretty sure it wouldn't make the trip. She was in, though, if I could somehow make her drive less and I paid for gas. I started looking along the route we would take and a classmate from HS was attending school in Dallas. She hadn't planned on going home, but with some persuading I managed to convince her. I would be riding up to Dallas with the one girl, we would swap there into the other friends car, drive up to southeast SD, and get dropped off at my folk's place by the classmate. I would then drive up and drop the girl from Houston off in north-central SD and return home. Since my fiance was in school in north east SD, I could even pick her up on the way back from dropping this girl off and bring her home for the holiday as well. I could even surprise her by picking her up instead of her Dad doing it, and I conspired with her parents to make it a workable surprise. After the holiday I would follow the girls in my car back to Dallas and then back to Houston behind the one gal. Sheer genius, or so it seemed.

We both got done with class Mon morning and opted to skip anything on Tues that wasn't already canceled. Houston to Dallas in a Ford Tempo listening to every album Prince put out one after the other is not something that fades quickly from one's memory. Once in Dallas we located the classmate, I made introductions, and we then hopped into a Taurus for the rest of the trip. I drove the first leg north out of Dallas, then we started taking turns mid-Oklahoma. I was asleep in the back seat when my HS friend got a ticket in Nebraska, but she woke me up then to take over driving (early Tuesday morning now) because the weather had turned bad. I drove the last 3 hours or so in to home, got dropped off and we hopped in my Dad's Ford Festiva for the last 4 hours of the trip to take the first girl home. All set with that I proceeded over to State to get my gal and she wasn't there. The weather was so bad classes had been canceled and she had caught a ride home with someone else. That left me driving the last two hours solo home at the tail end of a 36 hour driving marathon, in a blizzard, in a Ford Festiva.

After 10 miles or so at 20mph I decided that the odds of me going in the ditch while driving 70 were slightly less than me falling asleep at the wheel if I drove 30, so I upped the speed and gunned for home. The car behind me saw me speed up and tried to do the same, but instead spun at least 3 times and then backed into the ditch hard and fast enough to bury the car in snow. That should have been a clue for me, but I was too tired to care. I pushed on home, stopping at the girlfriend's place instead of my own when I got back home. Her parents welcomed me warmly, after all we had been dating for most of the last 6 years, but her reception was cold, to say the least. All this drive was for naught, it would seem, but at least I would have my car.

Got home then finally Tuesday evening and babbled incoherently something to my parents about lots of driving and needing a nap. They woke me up for supper on Wed. Dad had assayed the situation and decided that the Opel still wasn't safe for the trip, even with a chase car, and instead I should drive the '83 LeMans 4-door he had just purchased. He had only driven it a few miles, though, after having the heads replaced, and wasn't really sure of it's condition either. It had a hitch and cruise control, though, so that was enough for me. We went and got tires to replace it's bald skins and we were set.

A little quick math yielded an ideal departure time of Sat evening, with plans to drive straight through. Both of us from Houston had papers due on Mon we had basically blown off and would need a couple hours to write. The other girl from Houston's parents dropped her off at my place, and we went in to fetch or missing amigo. Once all the good-byes were said we set off. On the first gas stop I double checked the oil and found it 2 quarts low. Since I didn't check it before we left I wasn't sure if that was where it had been or if it was using/losing the oil. I bought a couple extra quarts, though, just in case. Second gas stop in Lawrence, KS yielded a dead battery. Car would jump, but we had no cables. Ever try to buy jumper cables in middle KS at 2am Sun morning in the days before WalMart was everywhere? Only a couple hours lost and we were back on the road. I lost cruise middle OK, and needed a nap just north of Oklahoma City. We were all pretty beat, so a quick rest was acceptable, but when I slept too long the girls jumped the car and drove the next couple hundred miles with me sleeping. I drove the last bit into Dallas, and as I shut the car off for the last refueling before dropping the girls the car wouldn't restart, even with a jump. We dropped the one girl off to drive on in to Houston solo and went and bought a battery at K-mart. With the new battery it started, but not well and ran poorly, almost like a slipped timing chain. My chase car was long gone, though, so I set out to limp it the last 4 hours regardless. After couple miles, though, I brought it off I-45 to see if it was anything I could fix and the car died at the bottom of the ramp, never to restart.

So, 6pm by the time I gave up, I'm 4 hours from Houston, 13 hours from home, in a car I can't fix. I get to a pay phone and try calling my roommate to see if he can get someone with a pickup to come rescue me, but no one we know with a truck is back from the weekend yet. I call home and curse my father out for sending my with this stupid car, and he sets about to see what he can do from there. Since this is an already long story, I'll cut to the chase. Friend from Dallas came and rescued me, towing me on a strap back to a hotel near her campus. Father rented a car trailer, borrowed a friend and his truck and came down with his Festiva and swapped out for the LeMans. I made it in to Houston finally on Tues morning @10am just in time to turn in a hand-written (in the hotel) version of my paper only one day late. (The prof took it 2 days late instead, and typed, and it earned me an "A", thank you.)

All this would seem like the end of the tale, were it not for the planned trip the following weekend to New Orleans. Seems the girl we were taking along for lodging's sake had been pretty worried about me too.... But that story can wait.