REMEMBERING CARS OF MY PAST....
By Olivene Godfrey
A few days ago, my son, Barry , and I were talking about the long ago time when my late husband, Ralph, tried to teach me to drive a straight shift car. Barry suggested that I write a column about it and he sparked an idea to write of my memories of all the cars that have been a part of my life.
It all began in the early 1930s when my daddy bought a brand new Ford. He must have had a windfall as we were all dressed in new clothes when we took our first ride in the new car. I remember that I wore a short, white flannel pleated skirt and white sweater and I was as excited about the new clothes as I was about he car.
Next, the scene shifts to a few years later when we had moved to a house in the country in East Tennessee. The house had a concrete driveway which my mother used to learn to drive a car. I don't remember what kind of car we had then but Mother had grown up riding in horse drawn carriages and she must have thought the automobile was like a magic carpet. One day, she loaded all us kids in the car and we went exploring down a dirt road. It had come a downpour of rain a few days earlier and we came to a point in the road which had eroded, leaving a pretty big ditch. That didn't deter my feisty mother. She simply backed the car up in the road so she could hit the gas pedal and get a running start on a jump over the ditch. Incredibly, she almost made it, too, but the back wheels were lodged in the mud. I don't remember how we got out of that situation but it didn't stop Mother from driving into her 80s. She died at the age of 92 in 2,000, still a feisty lady to the end.
Next, shortly after World War 11 ended, Daddy bought a used Packard which we loved. I was about 17 and thought I should be driving. We didn't own a car the last couple of years of the war so I hadn't had a chance to learn to drive. One Sunday, Daddy let me drive on a highway near our home. I thought I was doing fairly well on my maiden trip with the straight shift. But, the next thing I knew, I was pulled over by a law officer. He asked to see my driving license and when he learned I didn't have one, he said he wouldn't give me a ticket if I passed the drivers license exam the next week. Amazingly, I passed the test and got the license which was much easier then to acquire one these days.
I had a drivers license but I was almost completely ignorant about driving a car. One night, my parents let me take the car out with my sisters in tow to ride around town. They were normally very strict parents and we all had early curfews if we went out on dates with boys. I don't know why they were so lenient about letting me drive. I scared my sisters half to death that night when I went the wrong way down a one way traffic street. They screamed and carried on and made me nervous so I drove home someway.
Sometimes my sisters and I talk about how fearless and daring I was in those days. I went to an airport one day with a friend and I went up in a small open plane while the pilot performed stunts, scaring me but I also was excited by the flight. And when I was a kid and we went to fairs, I loved to ride the Ferris wheel, etxc.... But I digress.
When I met my late husband, Ralph, he had just come home from the Pacific where he had served in the Army during the war. I didn't drive anymore until after we married. Ralph tried to teach me to drive and we ended up with him yelling at me and me getting nervous. Finally, he bought an Oldsmobile with an automatic transmission which I could easily drive and began my long period of driving. In 1957, we bought a 1957 Chevy which was destined to become a classic. Later, we bought a ,68 Chevelle which I drove and taught Barry how to drive in it. He later drove it to high school. When Barry bought his first car, Ralph took over the Chevelle and restored it. Next, he restored an old Cadillac. He sold all three of the cars for a mere pittance which was the story of our lives. BY that time, Ralph built a hot rod which he took to shows and sold for a little more than the other cars. He restored a 74 Chevrolet truck which was the last vehicle he worked on and is admired by truck enthusiast who see it. It belongs to Barry now and he tells all who ask that it isn't for sale. He often drives the truck to work.
I am at a point in my life when I only want things to be calm and serene and don't want any excitement in my driving. I drive a car that is dependable and quiet and that is why I like it.
I choose the times and routes that I drive in order to avoid heavy traffic. I think I will know when it is time for me to stop driving and I know that will be a sad day for me.
By Olivene Godfrey
A few days ago, my son, Barry , and I were talking about the long ago time when my late husband, Ralph, tried to teach me to drive a straight shift car. Barry suggested that I write a column about it and he sparked an idea to write of my memories of all the cars that have been a part of my life.
It all began in the early 1930s when my daddy bought a brand new Ford. He must have had a windfall as we were all dressed in new clothes when we took our first ride in the new car. I remember that I wore a short, white flannel pleated skirt and white sweater and I was as excited about the new clothes as I was about he car.
Next, the scene shifts to a few years later when we had moved to a house in the country in East Tennessee. The house had a concrete driveway which my mother used to learn to drive a car. I don't remember what kind of car we had then but Mother had grown up riding in horse drawn carriages and she must have thought the automobile was like a magic carpet. One day, she loaded all us kids in the car and we went exploring down a dirt road. It had come a downpour of rain a few days earlier and we came to a point in the road which had eroded, leaving a pretty big ditch. That didn't deter my feisty mother. She simply backed the car up in the road so she could hit the gas pedal and get a running start on a jump over the ditch. Incredibly, she almost made it, too, but the back wheels were lodged in the mud. I don't remember how we got out of that situation but it didn't stop Mother from driving into her 80s. She died at the age of 92 in 2,000, still a feisty lady to the end.
Next, shortly after World War 11 ended, Daddy bought a used Packard which we loved. I was about 17 and thought I should be driving. We didn't own a car the last couple of years of the war so I hadn't had a chance to learn to drive. One Sunday, Daddy let me drive on a highway near our home. I thought I was doing fairly well on my maiden trip with the straight shift. But, the next thing I knew, I was pulled over by a law officer. He asked to see my driving license and when he learned I didn't have one, he said he wouldn't give me a ticket if I passed the drivers license exam the next week. Amazingly, I passed the test and got the license which was much easier then to acquire one these days.
I had a drivers license but I was almost completely ignorant about driving a car. One night, my parents let me take the car out with my sisters in tow to ride around town. They were normally very strict parents and we all had early curfews if we went out on dates with boys. I don't know why they were so lenient about letting me drive. I scared my sisters half to death that night when I went the wrong way down a one way traffic street. They screamed and carried on and made me nervous so I drove home someway.
Sometimes my sisters and I talk about how fearless and daring I was in those days. I went to an airport one day with a friend and I went up in a small open plane while the pilot performed stunts, scaring me but I also was excited by the flight. And when I was a kid and we went to fairs, I loved to ride the Ferris wheel, etxc.... But I digress.
When I met my late husband, Ralph, he had just come home from the Pacific where he had served in the Army during the war. I didn't drive anymore until after we married. Ralph tried to teach me to drive and we ended up with him yelling at me and me getting nervous. Finally, he bought an Oldsmobile with an automatic transmission which I could easily drive and began my long period of driving. In 1957, we bought a 1957 Chevy which was destined to become a classic. Later, we bought a ,68 Chevelle which I drove and taught Barry how to drive in it. He later drove it to high school. When Barry bought his first car, Ralph took over the Chevelle and restored it. Next, he restored an old Cadillac. He sold all three of the cars for a mere pittance which was the story of our lives. BY that time, Ralph built a hot rod which he took to shows and sold for a little more than the other cars. He restored a 74 Chevrolet truck which was the last vehicle he worked on and is admired by truck enthusiast who see it. It belongs to Barry now and he tells all who ask that it isn't for sale. He often drives the truck to work.
I am at a point in my life when I only want things to be calm and serene and don't want any excitement in my driving. I drive a car that is dependable and quiet and that is why I like it.
I choose the times and routes that I drive in order to avoid heavy traffic. I think I will know when it is time for me to stop driving and I know that will be a sad day for me.
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