A couple weeks after passing my road test my parents for some unknown reason allowed me to drive our little Dodge to a dance at the Jewish Community Center. Cousin Jim was already going with Larry. Not only was Larry a member of Witt AZA with us, but also his parents had been friends with our parents since their days at North Division High and were also members of our synagogue, Anshe Emeth, the People of Truth.
So, I picked up M and we rode together across town to the JCC. I don’t recall much about the dance except there were a lot of people there, and parents had dropped many of them off. This meant some would be looking for rides at the end of the night.
Although laws vary from state to state many, like my adopted home of California, prohibit new drivers from having passengers under the age of 25 in the car with them for the first six months or year. No such prohibition was in place in Wisconsin when I was becoming acclimated to the responsibility of driving. Naturally, little encouragement was needed for me to agree to take Cousin Natalie and some of her friends back to the westside for pizza at the Wagon. After all, I was providing a service to their parents who would not have to drive so far to pick them up.
As five girls somehow managed to squeeze into the back, three on seats and two on laps, Natalie assured them I was a competent driver. As I watched in my rearview mirror I noticed Big Jeff pull out of the parking lot and onto the street behind me. An equally large number of teenagers piled into his family car, a much larger Buick Electra. Then, Natalie climbed into the front on the bench seat between M and myself.
One of the things that quickly became obvious to me despite my status, as a novice driver was the six-cylinder engine strained as the result of the additional weight. Taking this into account I allowed myself a little extra space before accelerating to shift into the next lane. As I did this I noticed Big Jeff decided to follow me into my new driving lane. Of course, his big eight-cylinder engine suffered less since it was designed to provide power to a much heavier car.
When we came to a red light Natalie whose head was directly in front of the rearview mirror noticed the additional glare of the lights, which loomed large due to the big Buick’s proximity to my rear bumper. For a couple of miles I tried to evade the lights of the prankster, but his more powerful engine rendered my attempts futile. Finally, I decided to use my better maneuverability to shake him. I quickly turned on a side street and then quickly down another street.
He didn’t follow me down the second street, but somebody else did. The siren was very short, but everybody besides me tried to turn to see the red light flashing on top as it pulled up behind us. I parked and noticed a parked car facing me and another one facing in the same direction on the other side of the road. Realizing what I had done I fumbled for my wallet and rolled down my window. Unfolding the 5X7 sheet of paper a driver carried the first six weeks while the state processed and sent the wallet size probationary license in the mail I had it ready when the officer arrived at my window.
Looking inside with his flashlight, then folding the paper back neatly and handing it to me he must have remembered what it was like when he first got his license and was trying to impress his friends because he said he was going to give me a warning ticket. He went back to his patrol car, made out the ticket, returned, had me sign it, and told me to take good care of my valuable cargo. Five minutes later I started to breathe again.
Did anything exciting happen when you started driving? Tell us in the comment section.
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