Cars

When I was in high school, I loved the family car.  At first, to get us used to the car, Daddy would let us practice our driving by ourselves. We lived in the orange groves, on his land, and we could practice driving without hurting anyone. He would give us the keys to an old Crosley three-speed and said try not to hit any trees and try not to get stuck in the sand. So I drove all over the place and didn't knock down any trees or kill anyone. 

In the 8th grade, we could take driver's ed and get our restricted license. We rode around town with a teacher and about three other kids, each taking a turn.  That is scary when the other kids were driving. We didn't drive in the parking lot. We drove on regular streets. 

When I was 16, Daddy took me to take my driving test and to get my license. That was an experience. In those days in Bartow, some of the cops were big redneck flirts. So when it came time for my test, this cop took me driving and after awhile, told me to drive out on the golf course, (The driver's license place was on the edge of the golf course). Of course, I knew we were not supposed to drive on the golf course, but I was just a kid and thought okay, whatever you say. Then all of a sudden the cop reached over and puts the gear shift lever in park. This car was automatic. I yelled at him, and said you're going to tear up my Daddy's car doing that. What's wrong with you. Then the cop starts flirting bigtime and acting like he wanted to make out. I yelled at him, "We are going back to the station and I am going to tell my Daddy! You are not suppose to do this!" He didn't touch me or anything, but he would have if I would have let him. I ran in and told Daddy. I bet that cop never did that again. (At least, not until, next time and some girl will let him.) Needless to say, I did get my license.

Some times, cops would pull the kids for speeding in town, and all they really wanted to do was flirt with the pretty girls. The speed limit on the highway in the those days was 70 to 75, and we all had big cars that drank the gas. But gas was so cheap. When I was going to business school in Orlando, I could drive from Bartow to Orlando on one dollar's worth of gas.  It took 2 to 3 dollars to drive all week back and forth to school and all around Orlando. Gas was a quarter or 30 cents a gallon.

Daddy bought new cars about every two to three years.  He would buy the car and bring it home and then go tell mother a new car was in the garage.  He always was the one to pick it out. The cars he picked were hot and went fast.

One time the whole family, and a girlfriend were going in town to see a movie.  On the way out of Alturas, there was a black bull standing in the road just around the bend after a curve in the road. It was dark and we didn't see him until we were right on him. We were driving nearly 50 miles a hour. This bull hit the hood, then the windshield and broke it, then the top of the car, then the back window and broke it. Then it hit the ground and got up and ran off. Some farmer had to track it down and shoot it. The hit was so hard, it broke every window in the car. No one was hurt, but glass was everywhere, in your hair, in your shoes, in your clothes just everywhere. A cop said he heard it way down the road and came to see who hit a brick wall.  So that it something I'll never forget.  

I never had a car of my own until I went to business school at Orlando Jones Business College. It was a little Renault. I drove that thing to death. I think we had to shoot it when I was done. There was nothing good left in it. When Eddie and I got married, his had a TR3 foreign car. 4 speed.  I loved that thing. We drove it to Denver, Colorado after the wedding, where he was stationed.  We put all our worldly possessions in that little car.  In those days, we rented furnished apartments. In the military, you moved and it was easier to just move clothes instead of furniture also. After a while, we did buy a house in New Mexcio and did get some furniture. Have to go now. Talk more later.