Did you have a drivers education class in high school? Apparently it’s quite rare nowadays, and even Toney, who is only three years younger than me, had a watered-down version. She never actually went out driving in a real car, they used a simulator of some sort, at the school.
Not us. We went out on the roads, in a funky car with a brake pedal on the driver’s side and the passenger side — so the teacher could hopefully stop the vehicle before it went crashing through a brick wall like the Kool-Aid man.
I remember several close calls inside that shitty K-car. One girl went sailing WAY off the road, and we nearly rolled down an embankment. I was sitting in the backseat at the time, with a painful, prolapsed sphincter.
Another girl took out a section of a chain link fence, but thankfully I wasn’t along for that ride. Sweet sainted mother of Clarence Earp!
Toney was surprised that we actually had a drivers ed car, and they allowed us on the public roads. Is that unusual? We just took it for granted. What do you remember about it? Do you have any stories to tell? Use the comments link below.
During that class my friend Tim and I wrote alternative captions for nearly every picture in the textbook, and they were funny as hell. At least we thought so at the time. It was a semester-long project, and almost every entry was comedy gold.
We vowed to steal that book at the end of the year, but didn’t do it. I wish I had it now. It was one of my greatest high school achievements. …Hey, I didn’t exactly have lofty goals in those days.
And speaking of olden times, my friend Mike posted this photo at Facebook last night. It’s our Little League team — sponsored by the town’s dentists (heh) — and I’m standing in the back row, second kid from the left.
I usually played first base, sometimes third, and wasn’t very good. But the team was great. The kid to my left, Danny B., was one of the best players in town, and Mike was really good, too. He’s in front of me, middle row, first on the left.
I remember the coach on the left — Dean Thomas — screaming at me: “What are you doing leaning up again’ the wall, Kay?! Move your ass!!” He also told me, in front of the whole team, that if it wasn’t for my fielding, I’d be “sittin’ the bench.”
Ahhh, so many fond memories…
No, I’m only joking. It was a lot of fun. Among many other things, I was involved in a pivotal play at third, near the end of the season, against the only other team that could challenge us.
A big ol’ bruiser named G.G. (I’m not kidding) blasted a line drive to the wall, and didn’t even pause at second base. He just kept on running, and the ball and G.G. arrived at third base at almost exactly the same time.
He put a football tackle on my ass, and there was nothing but a big cloud of dust. And when the smoke cleared I was in a crumpled heap, but held up the ball with my throwing hand. Somehow I’d caught it, and not dropped it, and the ump made a great big, dramatic OUT! sign.
It was fantastic! G.G. started crying, and all my teammates were there patting me on the back. I believe it was the final out of the game, but that might not be accurate. It was certainly a highlight, though. I think Coach Thomas even congratulated me. Unheard of!
And I’m calling it a week here, my friends. I’ll be back on Monday, at the latest. But I’ve been known to crank out a Saturday update, so we’ll see how that goes…
I have a quick Question, in addition to the Driver’s Ed topic above, and your fond (or otherwise) memories of Little League. I’d like to know if you’re aware of anyone who’s gotten into trouble with their employer, because of something they wrote online?
This has nothing to do with me personally, but I sorta know someone who was fired last week, because of something they posted on Facebook. Do you know anyone who’s gotten into hot water for internet shit-talking? Tell us about it, won’t you?
And I’ll see you guys next time.
Have a great day!
Jason, let the bunker cam decide whether they are “tasteful” or not.
Driver’s ed in a 1994 Chevy Cavalier four door. Blaugh! The only consolation was that it was an automatic, so I didn’t have to worry about stalling the thing. (All three of our family vehicles were stick.)
Very first day, my partner Beverly was driving first, leaving school. We headed up the somewhat winding road, and she was kind of hugging the center line. Ms. Scott said, “Keep to the right…” and didn’t get the rest of her sentence out. Beverly yanked the wheel to the right to take off on that side road that just happened to be where Ms. Scott had said, “Keep right.” Ms. Scott jammed on her brake and we screeched to a halt. She actually laughed and said that her timing couldn’t have been worse. She explained what she meant and away we went again.
Got to take the real driver’s test with Ms. Scott in that car that we’d been practicing in. She was licensed by the state to give driver’s tests! I passed first time, but still had to go to court to pick up my license. Even then the judge gave my license to mom and said she could give it to me if she wanted to.
Shiny Rod says
Corpses don’t bleed. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I watched the warm red stuff bubble out of the two bullet holes in my chest. I still had a chance. Not a good chance, but hell, beggars and chumps with thirty-eight caliber slugs in ’em can’t be choosers. How did I end up a blood-dappled throw rug? Would it surprise you if I said there was a dame involved? No, I didn’t think so. At the end of the day — drained, damp and dyin’ — it’s always a dame.
Her name was Lola. Lola Levine. You know the type. California blonde with a brunette bikini wax, actress without a SAG card, naughty pictures on a members only web site, and junior cantor at the Beth Israel Synagogue in Beverly Hills. Well, let’s call it Beverly Hills adjacent. Ah, what the hell, West Hollywood. Still, a nice neighborhood to belt out the high holiday Torah favorites. Anyway, Lola Levine. The reason this Buddha-dabblin’ gentile is about to get tucked in for the long dirt nap.
I wish I could say my sudden loss of precious bodily fluids was the result of me gettin’ caught doin’ the horizontal horah with the very zoftig Ms. Levine. You know, the ol’ jealous rabbi with a loaded Smith and Wesson hidden under his milk dishes story. But it’s not. Lola didn’t like sex. And the rabbi didn’t like Lola. No, I am sittin’ here in all my ventilated splendor because Lola’s sister liked sex.
Her name was Christine. Christine Levine. You know the type. California blonde with a brunette bikini wax, actress without a SAG card, naughty pictures on a members only web site, and trans-sexual Franciscan monk.
Shiny Rod says
Tilly – …and I’m quite sure the guy will remember the one on knee too! Sorry, I couldn’t let that one roll by!
took drivers ed in school, actually did the book work when I was 14. turned 15 a week later and took the driving portion. the class before us wrecked the car (big 4 door Plymouth) so there was a dent in the rear drivers side door. people would see that and move over to get out of the way! Basil Mawbey was our instructor and he told us if he had another car load of students like us he was going to ask for a roll cage to be put in the car. the next year a girl made a left turn in front of a semi. Coach Mawbey ended up with a broken neck and wore a collar the whole next year. guess he should have put the roll cage in….. had my permit for a year before I could get my license, one of the longest years of my life! got pulled over while I had my permit for doing 50 in a 35, thank goodness the cop was nice and gave me a warning.
sucked at baseball, never played but did get hit in the head with a bat and knocked out playing with the kids next door.
Not Oprah says
Had drivers Ed in HS. A friend and I got sent home one day for talking. I think it was during one of those carnage films that was to scare us into the seriousness of paying attention while you drive. The trainer had peddles on his side and would floor it if he thought we weren’t merging quick enough – made us scream. He would also make us frequently stop so he could smoke. I mostly learned how to drive on my Grandparents farm, I think I was driving a tractor by about 8 – obviously no rules to follow. My brother would be riding on the back of the tractor and my favorite thing to do was whip my foot off the clutch when starting out – SEE YA!!! Then I would pretend I didn’t know he fell off. Good old Dad also ‘helped’ me learn how to drive ‘ STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP’!! As my foot was on the break and stopping at oh 5km/hr.
Saw reference above to donuts – A friend used to borrow her Mothers car and we use to spend Sunday mornings (before Sunday shopping days) in a mall parking lot doing donuts of the ice – big fun.
Played softball now and again but was mostly into soccer my entire life. I remember this one coach (outside of school) who was a complete alcoholic, he would always forget everything and accuse of crazy things. ie. Once we had a fund raiser and he accused us of stealing all of the money even though it went right into the bank.
I heard Toyota recalled all of their drivers ed cars because they would magically accellerate and the brakes didn’t work.
Stupid Japans. They deserve all that Godzilla shit.
Uncle Buzz in Wheeling says
Driver’s Ed, what’s that?
The only Driver’s Ed I had was aboard an ancient bicycle.
My driver’s test was administered by a genuine Texas Ranger in Ballinger, TX. I had just turned 18 and was a newly minted member of the USAF.
What year? Yeah, right. (Hint: watch The Last Picture Show.)
Today’s quote: “The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.” Thomas Szasz
Chuck in Belpre says
nicely done my Shiny friend.
Thomas Szasz – The worst answer for the bonus round of Wheel of Fortune ever.
My Grandpa Joe let me drive everywhere when I was about 10 or 11 years old. He had a 1967 Chevy Stepside pick up truck, three speed on the column, straight six. He was already retired, could not see for shit, and was half drunk by 10 AM every day. (He was a carbon copy of Uncle Joe from Pettycoat Junction, and he was a blast.) He also let me smoke cigarettes, play poker for money in the back of the barber shop, and pound shots of whiskey with his retired buddies, then I drove home. Imagine that today, Christ, they would lock him up.
My Mom and Dad used to bitch him out for allowing me to drive at that age, but he swore I was a better driver than he was.
I turned 16 years old in 1980. Dad had a 1976 Lincoln Town Car that just sat in the garage. Mom would not drive it because it was too big for her and Dad always drove his truck. I had my driver’s license 2 weeks after turning 16 and that car was all mine after that. I loved it, drove it to high school junior and senior year every day.
A State Trooper named Jack Ice gave me my road driver’s test. He noticed me going 40 in a 25 speed limit going up Charles Street during the test but passed me anyway. At the end of the test, he mentioned that he had seen me driving in town for years and assumed that I was on a learners permit. (Gave me the evil eye.)
Two weeks later, the same Trooper gave me my first speeding ticket going 70 in a 45 up State Route 2, right through town, no warning, no small talk, just sign here.
Driver’s Ed consisted of sitting in a classroom watching Red Asphalt in an attempt to scare us into behaving behind the wheel. Then they talked about a few rules of the road and each kid got about 5 minutes behind the wheel of a K-car. A half-day deal and we were sent packing. My school relied heavily on the parents to do the teaching, so my mom took me out to the mall parking lot to practice in our Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser wagon with faux wood paneling, a sea-going vessel if ever there was one. Got my license on my 16th birthday.
Didn’t play softball as a kid, but I did play co-ed intramural ball in college. Just before a game during warm-up, the catcher nailed the pitcher in the gonads with an errant throw. The pitcher stood there for a minute and then, trying to maintain his composure, called the 1st baseman over and pretended to have a huddle with him. In reality, the pitcher was telling the 1st baseman to hold him up and help him walk. I could already see the sweat rolling down the pitcher’s face as he sat down next to me on the bench. Before I knew it, he was out cold, on the ground, and plowing grass with his face. We rolled him over and he came to a minute later, asking if I could take him to the emergency room. Severe testicular bruising. He came very close to losing a nut that day.
Every guy just cringed at STB.
Had drivers ed with the car and the passenger brake. Only took the class because it was a good time to fuck off. We got out of one of our other classes every other week to drive. Spent most of the time driving the teacher to do errands.
Teacher decided to make his own “instructional video” about being arrested while drunk driving. Chose me and my other two driving partners (one of which was nicknamed “fetus” – long story, but you really didn’t want him driving) to be the actors. I’d like to say it was because of my theatrical chops but I’m guessing he was trying to teach a two-for-one considering my reputation. Needless to say, the acting in that particular film was oscar worthy. The other actor/driving partner ended up getting arrested by the cop who “acted” in the video two years later and blew a .68. I know, not accurate because he should have been dead with a a number that high, but it was the field model and we were 17. He paid the public intox ticket.
Sucked at baseball. But the dugout was a great place for extracurricular activities.
First: Driver’s Ed. We had fairly sturdy GMC 4-door sedans. They were parked at the high school. Since this was along our drinking route, we’d pee on the door handles of the cars, but not the one I used. I had a couple free periods before Drivers Ed. and sometimes we’d get toasted before driving.
I had 2 kids go through Little League. I was helping out with the kids’ batting stances. One kid is all assways in the batter’s box. When I tried to correct him, the father says, “He’s trying to go to right field.” This was tee-ball, mind you.
No Driver’s Ed – my Dad taught me, and I broke out in hives every time he yelled at me, spent a lot of time scratching. Had to buy my own car and insurance before I could even start. Got a 1964 Chevy Corvair Monza Spyder 5 speed convertible. Bought it used in 1966, $650. and it came with a bullet hole in the windshield. Loved that little piece of junk!
Tilly-our school had a room set aside as a smoking lounge just for students. You could use it before school, during your study hall or your lunch break. They didn’t want the smokers to pollute the rest rooms between classes.
The Evil Twin says
There is a great 2-disc set of those old Public Service Highway Safety films called “Highway To Hell,” which features a lot of those old Ohio State Highway Patrol-lensed classics like “Wheels Of Tragedy,” “The Last Prom” and “Red Asphalt.” It also features a great historical overview from some of the actual filmmakers who were involved, and it’s available through Netflix. Well worth a look for some old time gory nostalgia…
Also check out “The Education Archive” DVD series, for their compilation of old Driver’s Ed films, which are a total hoot.
Bumblebee100k@msn.com (you really need to shorten that name), I thought you did know me. I am erased from a lot of people’s memories. I’m just a mystery that way. However, as I said before, I know who you are, know who your brother is, know who his wife is (formerly S.C, now S.K.) and know who their drugged out neighbor is (rhymes with Singleton). And I haven’t lived there for 27 years. Anyway, congrats to NOLA. I’m not happy about it, as Colts defense laid down in the second half, but the better team (that day) won.
On IPOD right now- “Jesus Christ Pose”- Soundgarden (looking forward to the reunion tour this year)
WB in OH says
Drivers Ed was pretty much the same here, take the classroom stuff, get your permit, drive with an instructor. We had one instructor who loved going to McDonalds and taking naps, so after a couple of Saturdays we’d just point the car towards the nearest McDonalds and wake him up when we got there. Had one kid I drove with who had no idea how wide the car was or terrible depth perception or something. When we would be using side streets and he would come up on a parked car he would veer way the hell to the left to make sure he gave it ample room on the right to the point he’d damn near be rubbing the curb on the other side of the street.
I sucked at LL. But I still had a lot of fun, I was the kid out there filling his glove with dirt and not paying any attention. Can’t believe Coach ever gave me any playing time, we won the championship in my 2nd or 3rd year with very little help from me.
i graduated from high school in 1953(!!!) we had driver’s ed, but the car had no “oh shit” pedal. one of my friends somehow managed to get out on the football field and total the tackling dummy. the driver’s ed teacher was named mr. christ (he pronounced it to rhyme with fist) and i’ll bet he said a lot of interesting things as this was going down.
I graduated in ’78 and we had both the simulator and the car with the “OH CRAP” pedal on passenger side. I always loved how the teacher would stop the car in the middle of an intersection if he didn’t like your hand-over-hand turns or if your hands weren’t at 10 and 2.
When we were in the simulator, my buddies and I would drop the clutch pedal down which changed the thing from automatic to “Three on the Tree”. We would be revvin’ and shifitn’ to beat the band.
Just in time for Valentine’s Day, I give you Death Bear!
AWG….Ok so you know who I am. I’ll send Bill a message to see who you are. You definatly know my family, but brother and SIL no longer live beside crack house, they moved last year.
Saints wins was definatly big here but i will always be a Steelers fan. This is definatly the right ime to live in NOLA. I don’t know if you are on facebook but I posted a bunch of pictures and a couple of videos from the Saints parade. You can frined me or link thru Bill or Jeff.
Apologies if she was already mentioned, I got tired of scanning the comments to check. Heather B. Armstrong, aka Dooce. (dooce.com) was fired for her blog. Now she blogs full time and makes enough cash that she and her hubs live off the blog. Being “Dooced” is a term for being fired for blogging or internet related activities (Or at least it was an answer on Jeopardy!)
And no drivers ed for me. I graduated in ’98.
t-storm — I aim to please. The rest of the story goes like this: A day or two after the emergency room visit, we were sitting around the pitcher’s apartment joking about the errant throw and its aftermath, when one of the roommates (who knew I had a serious crush on the pitcher and was pining away) blurts out, “You really gotta see the damage. It’s unbelievable. Show it to her.” I was horrified at the prospect and turned away as the pitcher started to pull down his sweats.
I wouldn’t look and he was determined to make me so he stood there in front of me with his goods a foot or so away from my face, which I had covered with my hands. After a few minutes of this harassment, I hit him in the gut, pushed him away without looking, and left. For a while after, the standard joke within the group included dick jokes and frat boys trying to expose themselves to me any chance they got. The penis in its natural state is ugly and frightening enough to a young virgin. Had I actually seen the horrific damage, I might have run off to a convent.
My school system provided the cars for driver’s ed. I’ll never forget the sight of a dozen Plymouth Volares with orange cones wedged underneath. We had to pass a written & parking lot test before we could get on public streets. I think mine was the last class to get driver’s ed before “budget cuts” ended the whole thing. After that, kids just had to learn on their own, I guess.
Bumblebee…Bill definitely knows me, as I lived just down the street from him and we used the parking lot across from my house for many major sporting events.
Good to hear they moved away from the crack house.
No facebook for me. Don’t have that kind of time.
The IT pinheads are going to block EVERYTHING starting next Monday. Only time to get into here now will be on lunch hour from the library. That sucks ass.
I’ll bet it’s crazy in NOLA right now.
On IPOD right now- “California Uber Alles”- Dead Kennedys
AWG….I shortened my name for you. Also Jeff told me who you were and yes, I do know now!! And the comments definatly fit your personality, well your old personality anyway!!
they had to move couldn’t get the wonderful Dunbar cops to cooperate and close the crack house down. You think living next door to a sherriff would scare them, but they couldn’t care less/Brother even drove his sherriff car home and they didn’t clink!!!
Yes NOLA is CRAZY. Can’t waite the weekend parties!!
tom in cola says
Our drivers ed teacher was a pervert who had his own rear view mirror so he could look up the skirts of the girls in the back seat-some would flash him probably hoping for a passing grade.
tom in cola says
Brynhildr-someone had to ask-How do feel about them now ?
-- Steve says
Learned to drive on Mom’s 421 4-barrel dual-exhaust Pontiac. Station Wagon. That thing went like a bat out of a gun.
By the time I got to Driver’s Ed, 2 of the 4 of us in the car already had our license, so we’d drive around while the football coach/driver’s ed teacher read the morning paper and scratched his balls through those polyester gym teacher shorts he always wore. (you remember the ones….)
Seems like there was a discount on insurance if we took it – waste of time.
tom in cola — That all depends on whom it is attached to.
Good Morning Surf Reporters….
Our drivers ed was both through our school AND through one of those Separate jobbies. The “teacher” for the drivers ed was employed by the school, and we gave the school the exorbitant fee, while the separate jobbie got a cut. While we did watch a few of those RED DETH ON THE HIGHWAY films most of the time we spent screwing around. The course was required if you wanted your license when you turned 16. We had one of those teeny little shit boxes but with two wheels and two sets of pedals. Nothing death defying happened in them as I recall.
I never played any intramural sports but, in high school I was one of those BIG girls (not really fat, just built like a Valkyrie) . We had a gym teacher who only liked the pretty gals, You had an option, either you could play the “Sport o’ the Day” or you could walk laps. We started Baseball, and he told me that with my size he didn’t think I would have the ….motivation…. to do what it took to win. Asshole… What he didn’t know was that my dad was in the minors and taught me how to play since I was old enough to hold a plastic bat, and I also spent the afternoons just after school with the dog in the park with a bushel basket of balls and a bat just thwacking them where I pleased to have the dog fetch.
Of course, he was the only one he would let pitch, so, after I bitched at him for throwing me two underhand balls he actually pitched one for me.
I took a step and gave him a line drive right to the jewels. I walked over to his sweating rolling form and said “Gee Mr. Greene, maybe I don’t have what it takes, I mean, I didn’t get it to the field at all….” Dropped the bat by his head and walked to the showers….
They called an ambulance for him the wiener, but I never had to walk laps again that semester.
i don’t remember your name previously, but i think i love you.
I have posted once or twice, but I am mostly a lurker.
i stand by my statement.
WB in OH says
Aqua-Great story, I pictured my douchebag gym teacher laying on the ground writhing in pain as I read your story!
You should post more often.
Chuck in Belpre says
8 more inches of snow Monday. I fuckin hate Winter.
This is a bit off topic, but I was wearing one of my smoking fish shirts out and about today. Went to Bob Evans to eat, and between my bites of bacon and sausage, I started to wonder if anyone found their way to this site by seeing someone wearing a shirt. The topic has been discussed previously, that is, how people ended up here, but I don’t recall anyone saying “I saw it on a shirt.” Just curious. Oh yeah, I’m drunk.
Good Morning/Evening/Night Surf Reporters…………..
We didn’t have drivers ed at any of our highschools save for one where a drivers ed program was run out of, and it catered to everyone after school/summer time.
It had a small driving course out back. Always got shit for taking the slalom portion too fast.
The road portion put you in a car with two other students, half day session. Worked out nice. I was with another guy who also spent time on a farm, drivers ed for him, like me was solely to get an insurance discount, the other was a city girl afraid of gravel roads… so you can imagine that first day for her when two country bumpkins went tearing down the gravel.
We also had a good selection of old road films during the class portion. “Signal 30” put out by the Ohio State Patrol was a good one. You can find it on archive.org. Those films lasted only a couple more years until somebody complained and they pulled them.
One film title I’ve been trying to locate was an early drivers ed film, and focused on highway driving, set during the early interstate days, the driver (older guy) and his instructor where riding in possibly an early 50’s convertable, making particular note of using onramps and offramps. If anybody knows of a title, let me know.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all the girls here at the WVSR.
Not Oprah says
dto – soundcards broke on my computer. Happy V-day back at ya.
I went to a small school without a drivers ed program…so my Mom hired this third party guy that had his own “driving school”…He shows up the first day in a shiny new red Beretta, none of this K-car shit, he was riding in style. It had the extra brake but no steering wheel. So he says jump in, and within minutes we were rolling, with me at the wheel. He jumps in the passenger seat and places a black automatic handgun in the console…I didn’t say anything, but my looked must have warrented an explanation(not EVERYONE had CCW permits then) he said something about having to carry large amounts of cash, blah, blah…So he fires up a smoke and tells me to merge onto I-75 at rush hour….I had been driving for all of ten minutes and this guy has me doing 80mph on the interstate. My only instructions were “don’t let off the gas EVER…it’s like hittin the brakes out here…”
Wow, the good old days!