First off, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas yesterday and have a very happy, healthy and safe New Year ahead.
With the new year comes another major holiday that I assume you all have on your calendars. That being my birthday.
While this one is not a milestone, 56, it is a bit of a personal one for me in another way. It marks 40 years that I have been driving. So once again, please indulge me and join me in the Boulder City Way-back Machine to when I got my license.
I had taken my test to get my driver’s permit in the summer of 1984. I had a car waiting for me, which I have written about before in terms of cruising the loop in BC. It was a 1975 Toyota Corolla, yellow on the outside and black on the inside. While it resembled a giant bee, it was all mine thanks to my parents, who had agreed that if I did not have a cavity by the time I was 16, they’d get me a car. It was a hand-me-down via my aunt and then grandparents but again, it was all mine. It sat on out street waiting for me to be old enough to drive. Until then, I practiced in my parent’s cars, primarily a manual Toyota. This way, if I learned how to drive a stick-shift, I’d have no trouble with an automatic.
A funny side-note on the permit process. When I moved to Hawaii, they require you to take a written test to get your license changed and updated. They used the same written test as they do on the mainland. It included questions like what you should do when approaching a railroad crossing, of which there are none in Hawaii, as well as what you should do when driving in snow, which is there none aside from atop Mauna Kea and Haleakala. On a side, side note, I was cocky, didn’t study, and failed the written test by one answer, thus I had to not only take the written test again but the driving test as well. So, that day it was me, at 31, with a bunch of 16-year-olds waiting for the driving instructor, who was younger than me. Needless to say, that cockiness quickly became a thing of the past. Luckily, I passed both with flying Hawaiian colors.
Back to my story. For those long-timers here, in 1984, Boulder City had no traffic lights, not even at Buchanan and formerly Nevada Highway. I’ll get to that later on.
My parents were good about having me practice with them as much as they could. In addition, I was taking driver’s ed with Mr. Ressler at the high school. There was also a before-school class we could take with Mr. Smale called Behind the Wheel. The benefits were that not only did you get actual driving training but it reduced one’s insurance premium.
One of my memorable pre-license driving experiences came just before school started in 1984. My mom had taken me and my younger brother and sister school shopping. Back then you had to take Boulder Highway way into town to get to any shopping. I got to drive us home. To make a long story short, I stalled it at five consecutive lights. At that point, riding my 10-speed bike the rest of my life looked pretty inviting.
Jump ahead to January 1985. I had just turned 16 and was ready to take the driving test. Back then, conveniently, the DMV had a satellite office in the building next to the bowling alley. I think it may have been the Lions Club. They would come out monthly, if I recall correctly, and administer tests.
With no traffic lights in town, I knew I was safe from having Boulder Highway flashbacks and stalling the car. While I practiced parallel parking, it turns out it was not part of the test. I passed. Two days later I got a job at the former Guy’s Villa Capri where I worked as a dishwasher and pizza delivery boy. How fitting for a recently-licensed lad.
So, 40 years later, I have had just two speeding tickets, I no longer stall at traffic lights but like many, parallel parking is not my favorite thing to do and based on how some people drive these days, not mention insurance and car repair costs, that old 10-speed bike looks better and better every day.