Driving

I was thinking about my dad this morning on the drive into work. I was taking my daughter and her friend (blond girl) to school this morning, when they asked why I hold the steering wheel the way I do. Blond girl said her mom and dad wrap their thumbs under the wheel so they can hold it tighter. I told her it was because of a story my dad told me when he was teaching me to drive.
In high school his drivers ed teacher was driving them back to the school. When he turned a corner they hit something in the road that jerked the steering wheel. The bar on the wheel caught both his thumbs as it whirled around. He tried to continue to drive them back, but both his thumbs were broken.
This of coarse got me thinking about dad teaching me to drive. My mother tried once or twice, but didn't have the patience. So my dad took me to an abandoned airfield so I could practice without endangering other lives. We spent all day out there. He taught me to know where the tires are on the road, how to power stop, and evasive maneuvers, along with the normal 3 point turn and parallel parking. I then drove home on the interstate, which scared the crap out of me. I didn't understand merging, and matching the other drivers speed. I had never driven that fast. 55 seemed like 90 to me. It didn't take long to get over that one.
I loved that day. Not just because I was learning to drive, but because I had him all to myself.