The office I work in is next door to our local DMV, giving me a direct view of government business as waves of people deal with their licensing issues, title transfers, and best of all, their driving tests. Looking out of the large picture window, I can usually tell quite quickly if Tiffany passed her birthday driving test or if Bradley is going to be able to use the family car for tonight’s big date. I’ve seen smiles, happy dances, disbelief, and even the occasional teary wail, “I’m NEVER going to get my license, EVER!” (Trust me, Tiffy, it ain’t that big a deal.)
Many (oh so many) years ago, when it was my turn to learn to drive, Dad fired up the tractor, drove it out into the orchard, and I excitedly donned the coveted John Deere baseball cap that each kid got for tractor graduation, ready for my first official lesson. (Dad wisely determined early on that he wasn’t putting half a dozen teenagers behind the wheel of the family car each year as we hit 15, one right after the other like falling dominoes. Learning mistakes were going to be made on a virtually indestructible John Deere, to a tree, not another car or an unsuspecting pedestrian.)
My dad came from a long line of hunters, and he also trained each new generation of hunting dogs. Darling little German Shorthair Pointers that he’d spend hours and hours with, teaching the pups to point out birds in the brush, then gently fetch the fallen and bring them in. When I turned driving-lesson age, Dad had a beautiful little guy named Bailey that followed him around with a wagging tail and adoring eyes. Bailey was as excited about his lessons as I was about mine.
So with Dad and his ever-present Bailey standing beside me, I fired up the tractor, stepped hard on the clutch, ground it into first gear with a loud crunch, and shot forward, throwing me backward and promptly running over Bailey’s leg. OMG. Poor Bailey was yelping, Dad was yelling “Drive forward! FORWARD!! “Put in the CLUTCH!!” while I dissolved into complete novice-driver panic, screaming, “How do I do that?? WHAT DO I DO??” Dad grabbed me off the tractor, jumped up and drove it off little guy’s foot. We scooped him up and raced to the vet, who pronounced Bailey miraculously okay. With lots of “I’m so sorry’s” and doggie treats, Bailey’s tail was wagging again by nightfall and all was well.
Until the next day…
Dad took Bailey out for a pointing lesson, and when he tossed the bird into the air, Bailey’s nose went straight forward (beautiful), his tail went straight up (good boy), and his right leg shot straight OUT at a 45 degree angle. WTH? Dad gently pushed Bailey’s paw back so the leg pointed straight forward, let go, and TWANG, it bounced back to a perfect, and apparently permanent, 45 degrees to the right. Uh-oh. For an award-winning Pointer to be, well…award winning, all three of his pointing parts need to point in the same direction.
“Well, if it helps,” I suggested, “at least it’s a perfect angle. It’s actually quite impressive.” The expression on Dad’s face told me it didn’t help, and I determined now would be a good time to stop talking. I heard later that Bailey’s first group hunting trip didn’t go well and the poor guy was the laughingstock of all his little pointer friends. Eventually he learned to point just using his nose and tail, keeping all four paws firmly on the ground, salvaging his reputation by establishing himself as a rebel.
To this day, I’ve never mastered the stick shift and the John Deere cap hangs in our entry way, silently mocking me. I recently saw an ad for an adult driving class that promises to teach stick driving. I signed up for spring. Maybe you can teach an old human new tricks.
Lucky I am mastered an automatic gear let alone stick. So with you on this and hope the classes help :)
Aw, poor Bailey!!
I’ve never really mastered driving stick either, but I blame it on the lack of exposure and experience, not the lack of skill. The great advantage of that argument is that no one can really prove me wrong.
OMG! So glad that the only thing wrong with Bailey was his pointing.
I wish more teens could spend their first year of driving on a tractor like that – not that I’d wish more harm on poor Bailey! But after teaching two teen sons how to drive in Atlanta traffic — WITH a stick!— I am now gluing on fingernails and finding my blonde in a bottle. Glad Bailey made it!
Made me cry trying to stifle a laugh reading this at work! Sorry to hear that Bailey’s point was dislocated, but glad it wasn’t worse! And no, I can’t drive a stick either! :(
Poor, Bailey. May parents made me learn how to drive on a stick. It was a requirement in our house. At the time I was annoyed because we had an automatic car too, but now I’m glad I know how to drive one.
I LOVE the way you tell a story. Always so vivid! I love that you challenge yourself to learn driving a stick and I love the look of the blog! :-) Is that you on the header? Such a gorgeous image!
HA HA HA!! This was hilarious! We will expect full recaps of the driving class! ;)-The Dose Girls
Poor poor Bailey. But honestly, after reading about all your silly mishaps, I’m not the least bit surprised!
I would be people watching all day if my office were facing the DMV! Must be hysterical!
LOL. Vikki. Dad wouldn’t let me Near the trackor or the riding lawnmower. Someone else tought me to drive a stick. At 17. Well it took me tell 87 to get my license. My fist go around I failed. He know I had to make a trip to Ptown in a few days. I went back the fallowing week an passed with flying colors. Afterwords he asked me well how did U get Ur friend home last week. I just smiled an said put him on a greyhound bus to here then went to pick him up. Then he asked what would u have done if a cop would have seen U. I smile an said he did. An sence I was engaged to his brother know I didn’t have a license. That look on him was priceless. But as I left with my card in hand doing the happy dance. My card was ripped away by a stater who had been watching me for years riding my Motorcycle. Cogradulated an said u need to get Ur endorsment. Well that hasn’t happened yet. There not much at this point I haven’t drove. Inclouding a semi.
You ALWAYS make me laugh! Such a great piece.
I backed over an old cat once. I still remember that thud. This cracked me up!
My sister used to work at the DMV. Her stories are never as funny as yours. But whose are? You’re hilarious.
My husband — who was not yet my husband — taught me how to drive a stick, because the only vehicle I could afford at the time had a stick and I had no choice but to learn. Since then, I’ve forgotten. It’s been years since I’ve driven anything but automatic. And never, ever a tractor of any sort.
Oh Vicki. I didn’t realize that your stories started before Kenny! ;)
Totally picked a good day to read this. Thanks for the pick me up on this weird Tuesday.
Stick-shifting is tricky; still, I can’t help feeling sorry for poor Bailey, lol.