What car, truck, or tractor taught you how to drive?

I honed my driving skills on our family car—a Dodge Dart circa 1967-1970. Even today, I still pride myself on being able to parallel park anywhere thanks to the Dart. What a machine whose manual steering required wrangling the car into submission, one inch at a time. 

Today, even the most inexperienced drivers ease into postage-stamp size spaces thanks to modern cars equipped with rear cameras and automatic steering.  Look Ma, no hands parking! Cars can even do all the driving for you while you look out the back seat passenger window. That’s not for me. In fact, self-driving cars are an accident in the making.  

    My first car accident happened close to home—in the driveway. First, let me explain the frightening experience of backing out of the garage into the driveway. Our driveway sat on a slope leading to our forest-filled backyard. Visibility was wretched. (Imagine an infinity driveway on a cliff.) My nightmare was one wrong turn of the wheels then the car and I would careen backwards, bouncing the steps, sliding into the woods, and landing in the creek. 

    Mom always backed the car out for me. She was fearless. Except when she was a passenger with me behind the wheel. Then she clung to the dashboard in the same way one adrift at sea would hold onto their lifeboat. Her right foot would mimic pressing down on the brake blocks before the stop light. It wasn’t funny at the time. But I can laugh about it now.    

     That day, after mom handed over the keys, I confidently backed out of the driveway. Bump! I ran smack dab into a telephone pole at the end of the driveway. Surprise! 

    For a teenager, I was a safe driver. That Dart, if pressed, could fly, with a speedometer that went to 120 mph. Speed wasn't my thing. I wanted the freedom a vehicle offered. This Dodge – we were a Dodge family for a while—was sturdy, practical nothing fancy four-door sedan, unlike the sleek more  expensive car my best friend's parents drove. The Dart was four-door beauty was an ideal beginner's car. Yet, whenever I drove it on weekends, it came home with a new “sound” an off-kilter ugly sound like a hammer hitting a pipe.   

    Those sounds caused my dad’s face to scrunch up in worry—a look I dreaded. He had questions asked in a calm voice, but I, the one with no answers, responded in a squeaky, broken voice. I don’t recall getting grounded or being in trouble. These unexplainable car things were bound to happen. Dad took the car to the mechanic. 

    Generally, I am attuned to abnormal stress sounds (clatters, clunks, etc.) my Chevy Bolt makes. It’s been making sporadic metallic pinging noises, coming from underneath the car. I miss Car Talk on the radio.

    We replicated the sound for our mechanic by pushing the rear end of the car side to side. The Bolt stayed in the shop and our mechanic checked and tightened everything, assuring us nothing would fall off. Mission accomplished.

    Not so fast. On the way home, a block from the shop, I heard the sound. 

    Then, this week, my hubby heard the sound from inside the house as I drove by. Much like my dad, he got serious and made an appointment at the dealership. Before we dropped off the Bolt we did online research. The verdict: I was not the only Bolt owner whose vehicle sang this song of unknown origin. 

    Our dealership has a drive through diagnostic device called Under Vehicle Eye or UVEye, which takes photographs of the vehicle’s exterior. The customer waits in the lobby and sees “issues” that appear on the seven-foot tall machine. We tapped the icon on the screen to see the photos with a brief description of the “issue.” My tires were 6.5 years old and worn. But what about the noise? No flash diagnosis for us. A real live mechanic would need to examine the Bolt.

    Two guys invented the UV Eye to detect bombs planted underneath vehicles and now is being employed by dealerships around the country. My Dad would be impressed with the technology.

    He was a family doctor whose philosophy was to make his diagnosis first based on talking with the patient, taking a health history, and listening. The tests he ordered were to confirm or rule out his diagnosis. He felt tests alone didn’t offer a reliable diagnosis.

    What was my poor Bolt’s condition? A broken axel torsion bar. Good news: I received word that my car will be ready in two days. Ready for more adventures!