By 1955, I was really getting tired of riding a bicycle, and I told Daddy so. He suggested that I could walk instead.
�You know what I mean, Daddy,� I told him. �I really need to learn to drive.� I was thirteen, going on fourteen, and most of my friends were driving, though most of them illegally since the driving age was then fourteen. �Besides,� I insisted, �think of all the help I could be to you and Mama. I could run errands and take Granddaddy to visit the cemetery and haul water from the spring.�
Well, Daddy thought it over and decided that having another driver around the house might not be such a bad idea. However, he reminded me that my driving would be limited to Winfield and the country roads and pastures that surrounded it.
Daddy had agreed to begin my driving lessons the following Saturday, so I was up early. I even washed the �51 Ford pickup and swept out the inside.
�A body would think you had a date or something,� said Daddy who was standing on the back porch, �the way you�re gussying up the old truck. It hasn�t looked this good since I bought it.�
�You never know who you might meet,� I grinned as I put the finishing touches to the faded truck.
�I figure we�ll drive out toward Mr. Bob Rountree�s farm,� Daddy suggested. �It�s a good blacktop road, and there shouldn�t be a lot of traffic.�
That was fine with me. I didn�t care where we went as long as I got to drive. Of course, it would be nice if some of the other kids in Winfield saw me driving. Daddy said if we met any girls while I was driving, he would duck down in the seat so they�d think I was by myself. He would do it, too. He was that kind of guy. Daddy said he would drive out to Mr. Rountree�s, and he would teach me a few of the finer points about driving on the way home. I felt pretty grown up as I climbed into the passenger seat of the Ford.
As soon as he turned off onto the blacktop road and headed south out of town, Daddy stopped suddenly. Before I could ask why we were stopping, he popped the clutch on the old truck and left rubber for about twenty feet. He was grinning from ear to ear as we went screaming out of town. �I haven�t done that in years,� he said. �It�s good to know I haven�t lost my touch.� Daddy never ceased to amaze me.
Mr. Rountree�s place was about five miles south of town, so that meant I could maybe drive most of the way home. Mr. Rountree was plowing his garden, so Daddy stopped to talk for a minute. If the truth were known, Daddy was probably explaining our mission and warning him not to be surprised if he heard screeching tires around his place for a few days.
Whatever Daddy told him, Mr. Rountree waved at me and wished Daddy luck. �You got your life insurance paid up?� he yelled as Daddy came around to the passenger side and motioned for me to get behind the wheel. My time had finally arrived.
I had watched Daddy carefully, so I knew about the gas pedal and the clutch. I had even practiced shifting the gears when the truck had sat in the driveway and nobody had been looking. We weren�t even Catholic, but Daddy made the sign of the cross on his chest before he took a deep breath and announced. �Gentleman, start your engine!� He was enjoying this as much as I was.
Stretching my legs as far as I could, I pressed the clutch all the way to the floor, touched the brake with the other foot, and slowly pressed the starter button on the dashboard. The old truck roared to life. Mr. Rountree had taken his handkerchief out of his overalls pocket and pretended he was the starter of an auto race. I grinned, and as he lowered the starting flag, I eased off the clutch and pressed the accelerator. We lurched a little at first, but I managed to keep it going through first, second, and third gear. We built up a little speed, and I looked over at Daddy.
He just smiled and shook his head in wonder. �Are you sure you haven�t been taking the truck at night when everyone was asleep? You drive like you�ve been doing it for years.�
Before I knew it, Winfield could be seen in the distance. �We�re about to meet a car,� said Daddy, �but you�ll be all right. Just stay on your side of the road.�
As the car approached, I realized that my moment of glory was just ahead in the road in front of me. �That�s Mr. Campbell,� I quickly told Daddy. �Remember what you promised.� Since there were several people in the car, I figured maybe one of them might be Paulita, Mr. Campbell�s youngest daughter and the object of my deepest affections.
�I remember,� he said and quickly ducked out of view.
Sure enough, Paulita was in the back seat. I could tell as we passed that she recognized me. I glanced in the rear-view mirror and could see her looking out the back window. �Much obliged, Daddy,� I said as I pulled the pickup to a stop.
�My pleasure, Son,� he replied.
�Just one more thing, Daddy, before you drive on home,� I said. Before he knew what was happening, I popped the clutch and left rubber for a few feet down the road before I stopped. �I haven�t done that in years,� I said. �It�s good to know I haven�t lost my touch.�
Daddy was still grinning when we got home.
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