I Don't Like You, Mr. Ford!

My one woman war against cars started not long after I was
married.. in fact, twenty years have gone by and the war is still
on. Once in a long while I get in a victory, but not often. This
is the story of a defeat.


It all began not long after I was married and we had moved into
our first house. As we had moved to the outskirts of the city, in
the Joyce road area, stores were a long way away, and so was the
bus service.


I needed wheels! Restlessly I walked around the car sitting out
in the driveway. That was it! It was time for me to get my
drivers licence. That car sat like a bump in the yard all day
while my spouse hurtled a dump truck around the city streets. I
had to wait until my husband was sitting relaxed after supper.


"Andrew, don�t you think I should be getting my drivers licence
soon dear?"


"What the hell for? I take you where you want to go, don�t I?"


"Sure, sure, at night and on the weekends, but I want to know
what the world is like in the daytime. There must be lots of
things I miss in the dark.� I gave a wistful sigh to emphasize
the point and watched him from my end of the sofa. He had that
look on his face that told me his mind was churning over like
mad. His eyes looked into mine and he inched away from me on the
sofa.


"Where did you want to go Nina?" he said, "I mean specifically,
where did you want to go?"


"Oh, good heavens,Andy! How should I know at this time? I just
want my licence so I can go someplace when I want to. It�s called
freedom, boy. F-R-E-E-D-O-M, freedom."


"I can spell just fine, Nina, so don�t get lippy with me. Anyway,
a licence costs money you know."


"My God! Five measly bucks!"


"No, Nina, my love," he replied through gritted teeth, "driving
lessons..your learners licence, your drivers licence, and
insurance for you.. you�ll have to pay more because you�re under
twenty-five years of age, remember? And then there�s the hat..."


Now it was my turn to be leery. He had a point there. I was hat
crazy and had one for every occasion. As a matter of fact, I�ve
been known to buy one at the drop of a hat.(just a bit of humor
there). It was a weakness common to all the females in my family.
However, that wasn�t the kind of topic I wanted to pursue at the
moment so I let the whole thing drop.


It was about six months later that I talked him into letting me
have driving lessons. Talked him into it??? Actually he gave me
lessons himself for a couple of days. As a truck driver I guess
he was qualified to instruct me in this fine art. It�s just that
he kept looking out the side window and whistling and drumming on
the dashboard with his fingers. There was a very definate link
between that and my driving.


For example: I�m in the car, see, all ready for my first lesson
and he�s being real sweet about it all. The day before he�d spent
an hour showing me how everything worked and now it was blast-off
time. I put my foot on the clutch..shifted into neutral..gripped
the wheel in claws of steel..gave it the gas..and nothing
happened. What went wrong? Mmmmm. I must have forgotten
something. Ahhhh, I know! Put it into FIRST gear. Now step on the
gas. That�s queer?? Nothings happening. I looked over at Andy. He
was looking out his window and whistling.


"Are we out of gas, Hon?"


Slowly he turned and looked at me. From the look on his face I
got a real bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew I had
goofed somewhere, but I couldn�t for the life of me think where?
I watched his mouth open. "NOooooo, DEAR! But you�re not going
anywhere if you don�t turn the key on."


Well,for heavens sake! I�d forgotten that. I put my foot on the
gas and turned the key on. "AHHHHHHH, NOT IN FIRST GEAR, NINA!"
But it was too late. The car spurted forward and then in the
middle of a strange grinding noise it died and came to a stop.
Strange whimpering sounds were coming out of Andy and he was all
hunched over.


This kind of unreasonable behaviour kept up all the time he was
teaching me. Especially when I would ask him when to shift. As I
could never understand the reason for it, how was I to know when
to do it? He wouldn�t answer. He�d just gaze out the window,
whistle and drum on the dashboard. This made me very, very
nervous, as I was trying to figure out if this meant I should
shift. In fact I�d shift right away just to be on the safe side.
Shifting down to first gear half a block away from a corner is
pretty slow driving..not to mention the nasty remarks other
drivers would fling at me as they passed me. Also Andy�s drumming
speeded up. Then I�d decide I had been mistaken about his earlier
drumming so I�d shift back up to third again. This meant going
around the corner at a pretty fast clip. By now he�d be drumming
at a furious rate.


Things continued in this fashion for a very short time..the next
lesson to be exact. We worked out the budget that night to
include my driving lessons. As Andy said to me, "Let them pay for
repairs, not me."


I really don�t think Andy had anything sinister in mind when we
went looking at old houses to buy. Breaking my ankle was an
accident. The floor boards were rotten...It didn�t mean a thing.
It only delayed my lessons for a year.


By the time I started again I was over twenty-five and Andy had
no excuse about the extra cost of insurance. In due time and
with the help of a nice instructor I got my licence. He didn�t
drum on the dash. I noted he did suffer from bleeding finger tips
though. When I suggested that he try to break himself of nail
biting he muttered something about owning the driving school.


About the same time as I recieved my licence, my girl friend got
hers. Now there�s a ding-a-ling for you. I went with her for a
drive and can you imagine going over the old Fraser Street bridge
at 25 miles per hour? What a nut! Ten miles an hour was fast
enough for me. And she never did learn how to parallel park.
She�d drive around for hours looking for a place to drive into.
Now, I considered it a challange to learn to parallel park. I
will even do it when there is only one car on the whole block.


They have a new thing out now called defensive driving. I think I
was already driving like that way back then. Boy, do you ever
learn fast that way. Like the time I hit this car.


I was trying to get around the corner on a busy downtown street.
I remember I didn�t have too much time left to shop and I was
driving our new Ford for the first time. As I came around the
corner I hit this huge big �CADDY� that was stopped in the middle
of the road waiting in line for the parking lot. Only I didn�t
know that then. WELL! Was I ever MAD! I got out of the car and
had a look. Sure enough..there was a scratch three inches long on
the side of my car. By now the owner of the �CADDY� was standing
beside me. He looked like such a nice, elderly man too. But this
was no time to be nice. I was upset, so I plowed into him
verbally. When he started to sympathize over the scratch, I told
him what I thought of a person who would sit in the middle of the
road like that, blocking my passage and forcing me to hit him. By
this time a crowd had gathered and I could see the poor old guy
was embarresed over his carelessness, so I told him I wouldn�t
make him pay for it as it was such a small scratch. I felt really
good about it as I drove off with the mans thanks ringing in my
ear. Little did he know it was only because I couldn�t remember
the proceedure for taking the particulars for an accident.
Although why he should laugh like that...?


(It wasn�t until a few days later that my friend told me that a
parked car has the right-of-way over a moving car that I knew I�d
pulled a boo-boo. I�d forgotten about that little thing. Anyway,
he didn�t have any scratches on his car, so I didn�t feel too bad
about it. A good offence is the best defence, I always say.)


I still had a new car with a scratch on it though and somehow I
had to get it fixed before I went home. Andy had this
unreasonable passion about his new car. I didn�t think he�d like
that mark on it at all. I decided it would be only good sense to
put off any further spending for the day and so, with this in
mind, I pulled into a garage on Burrard Street and asked the
attendant how much to paint over the scratch. It took that man
twenty minutes to look at a three inch mark. When he was
finished, he came over and told me it would cost about seventy
dollars to fix. I never heard anything so crazy in all my life!!
I asked him what he planned on doing..paint the whole car? He
leaned his head to one side and said, "No, just the scratched
fender."


By now I was getting very impatient with men. I asked him if he
had a black marking pencil on him. He said yes he did, and went
and got it for me and also a piece of paper. I got out of the car
and grabbed the pencil, went over to the scratch and inked it in.
I stood back and looked at the mark. It hardly showed at all. The
attendant just looked sick and shook his head. Well, I guess I�d
be upset too if someone came along and showed me how to do
something cheaper and easier. By the time the rain washed it away
the next week my husband thought he�d done it. As for me...I
couldn�t see any sense in rocking the boat.


I had a lot of trouble with that new Ford because there were so
many just like it.


I went downtown to shop one day and parked in the stores
multi-storied lot and I forgot to notice what floor I was on.
Well! When I looked for it I had to walk three levels before I
finally found it. Then my key wouldn�t work. I was standing there
cursing at that fool car when three men came over to see what was
wrong. They all tried the key, but no dice. It just wasn�t
working. Then one of the men suggested he get a coat hanger from
his car and as the no-draft was open, he could hook the handle
and open the door for me. They were all standing there toying
with the coat hanger and trying to jiggle the door handle when I
looked inside and noticed the babies car seat was missing. I�d
been ROBBED! No wonder the key wouldn�t fit. Then I saw this
silly hula dancer hanging from the dash board where it didn�t
belong. I took a good look now. Hell! It wasn�t even my car!


Those men shouldn�t have been so upset. They should have been
glad I found my own car on the next level...parked in exactly the
same area. It never happened again though. Not after I attached
the old rubber glove to the arial. It was like a friendly hand
always beckoning me to my own car.


Parking brakes were always a nuisance as far as I was concerned.
I don�t mean for holding the car in place. They�re fine for that.
I mean I was always forgetting to take them off. Over the years I
have developed a habit of checking the parking brakes as I drive
along. Until I did I was always driving with them on.


Honking cars can give you a complex if you don�t watch out. At
first I always thought they were trying to pick me up, but when
little old ladies started to do it I had to revise my thinking.
Now I know it is just a way of telling you, you have done
something wrong. Like Andy�s drumming. But the first time it
happened to me it was unnerving.


Like the time I was out driving and I passed a car coming out
from a parking space. He honked at me. I turned to look at him
and saw that he was waving at me. Well! Of all the nerve. I was a
happily married woman with two children! I ignored him and drove
on. OH BOY! Wait �till I tell Andy about this. I was still
smiling at the thought as I looked in the rearview mirror. Good
heavens! Five blocks and the mad fool was still following me. He
was honking and waving frantically. Well, I�d just have to ignore
him. I shook my head...hoping this would let him know I wasn�t
interested in him. I glanced into the mirror again. He�d gone. I
felt a twinge of dissappointment. How fickle men are. A little
rebuff and they give up so easily. I figured he was good for at
least three more blocks of following.


Then I heard a car honk. He was beside me! It was him! What
determination. MY GAWD! He was rolling down his window...he was
going to speak to me...not for him the passing wink and a wave,
it seems. I kept my head and turned to the front but I could hear
him yelling at me. Then his words finally got through to me.


"Hey, Lady! Your cars on fire!!!"


I looked at him blankly. That wasn�t what I had expected him to
say. I couldn�t adjust to this new game of his. I had to ask.
"What did you say." I yelled back.


"Your brakes are on fire. Pull over behind me." he yelled.


I followed him to the side of the road and jumped out of the car.
He was already ahead of me and running to the rear tire where
smoke was billowing out fiercely. Another man came running out of
the garage on the corner and started to spray the back with some
kind of foam.


I stood there shaking like a leaf and listening to the man from
the car telling the man from the garage how hard he had tried to
get my attention. He kept saying over and over again, "I honked
and honked and she just kept on going! Can you imagine that?? Can
you imagine someone ignoring you like that?? Can you???"


THAT�S THE END.