By Bobbie Bowman Clement © 1992
Issue: April, 1992
Years and years ago, my sister Hazel wanted to learn to drive. Dad had a sporty, black 1936 Ford Convertible with a rumble seat. One Saturday evening, he said, "Come on girls and Hazel can learn to drive." I was too young, being five years younger.
She got in under the wheel and got through all the gears very smoothly. Off down the bumpy dirt road we went. The first car she met was on a sharp left curve, with a car parked on the right side of the road.
"What do I do?" she asked. "Hold it steady and stay on your side," he answered as he pushed me down under the dash.
Just then a bunch of chickens flew between the two cars from off the road bank. Dad said a few choice words.
How we ever got through without a scratch was a miracle, but after some time, Dad had to admit it was sure some good driving.