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Wheel-less

2/18/2018

14 Comments

 
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I grew up without a car.
 
This isn't a big deal if you’re from New York City or Boston, or even San Francisco.  Actually, I have friends who don’t drive because they live in places where owning a vehicle is more bother than necessity.
 
I’m a native of Southern California.
 
So, for folks like me—baby boomers in Los Angeles in the 1960s—a car was essential.    
 
Getting to Disneyland or Knott’s Berry Farm or Universal Studios was nearly impossible without a car.  You also couldn’t go to Malibu or Zuma, where those glorious beach party movies were filmed.  On a mundane note, taking mass transit to my orthodontist for an early morning appointment, or arriving at Sunday school on time, was out of the question.  And movies were the worst; we went on weekends, when buses ran only once an hour.  This meant is that we always arrived at the theatre 20 minutes after the film had started.        
 
My brother and I were told there wasn’t money for a car.
 
I accepted this fact when I was small.  
 
As I grew, though, I saw that every kid in our working class neighborhood had at least one car in his driveway, and at least one parent who drove.  Sure, these vehicles were older than what we saw on television, and had more dents, but at least the families who had them didn’t have to take the bus everywhere.
 
Later, I learned that years before I was born, my father had attempted to drive. 
 
This was back in the day when there were tricky gear shifts and clutches and chokes.  The family story is that after my dad crashed into a mailbox, he was done trying.  My mother never wanted to drive, so our carless fate was sealed.   
 
Thus, and in A Very Large Way, our lives revolved around buses.
 
Indeed, I think one big reason my parents bought the house we lived in was because it was half a block from a city bus stop.  The route here also stopped in front of my father’s workplace; another bus would take us downtown to shop.  In high school, a yellow school bus picked us up at the same corner.
 
When a bus couldn’t get us to our destination, my mother got creative. 
 
A family friend on his way to work dropped us off at the orthodontist; from there, we could catch a city bus to school.  My mother did grocery shopping with a neighbor; once a week, she’d climb into the woman’s station wagon, armed with coupons and ads, and buy enough food to last us until the next trip.  Another acquaintance had a son who attended synagogue with us, so she would provide our way there. 
 
By the time I was a senior in high school, I was determined to master driving.
 
But probably because my parents didn’t know how to drive, getting behind the wheel didn’t come easily.
 
An uncle gave me my first lessons in a car with a stick shift.  That ended when I couldn’t figure out how to steer, and nearly careened onto a front yard lawn.  I also braked too hard; didn’t always look in the mirrors I was supposed to look in, and couldn’t change lanes smoothly.   I failed my first driving test.  But after more lessons from my best friend’s father, I passed on the second try.
 
It was then that my parents bought their first car, a sensible copper-colored compact.  It was just for me, and they allowed me to take it to school, or to use it to run errands for them. 
 
After that car died, a cousin gave me his, which I used to travel across the country in when I was a circus clown.  And then I bought another, and then another.  Except for the years I lived in New York City, I have always had wheels.   
 
I like to think that having to take a bus nearly everywhere in car-crazy Los Angeles left no scars.
 
But it did.
 
I began encouraging my daughter to drive a full year before she decided she was confident enough to learn.  I get to movies at least 15 minutes early.  I always get the oil changed on time, because I never want my car to break down.  When it is in the shop for more than one day, I’ve made sure, well in advance, that The Hubster or a handful of neighbors will help me get around. 
 
And occasionally, whenever I see a child or an older woman at a bus stop, alone and looking worried, I give them a ride.  
 
 
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14 Comments
Pam Thomas
2/18/2018 04:00:37 pm

Wow, Socal is such a car culture! That was so unusual. My mom did not drive but my dad did, so we had wheels. I was on the way to becoming a driver when I was in a fatal crash, from which I could not recover. Thankfully, no cars are needed in NYC, where I lived for more than 20 years. In the burbs, I use public transportation and don’t mind it at all. It’s green, and makes good sense. My bile gets me around locally, and provides exercise. All good. Telecommuting makes things easy, workwise. Well, you became a good driver! I have a memory of you picking me up at LAX years ago. Who knew?!!!

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Hilary Grant
2/18/2018 04:52:42 pm

The horrific crash I was in about 15 years ago definitely affected my driving options. I couldn't take the road (a main one) where the accident occurred for more than a year. I couldn't drive at night (still don't like to, but will if I have to). And driving in LA now is just... no. If I had to get there, and had to drive, I would... but there would be prayer all of the way down, and back. Re: LAX... I was definitely a better driver then, because I hadn't had the experience of a bad crash.

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Susan Jordan
2/18/2018 05:45:09 pm

Funny...I rode a motorcycle before I drove a car! I was about 7 or 8 when my dad (the man who raised me - different from my bio-pop), a motorcyclist from the age of about 14, bought my older brothers and me motorcycles. Rick got a used Ducati, Jeff a Honda (200, I think), and I got a little Honda Mini-Trail 50cc mini-bike with a blue and silver gas tank. I loved that thing so much, and had years of fun on it. He insisted we must never ride without helmets, jackets, long pants, and protective shoes or boots. He told us, "If you ever ride a motorcycle, you need to know right now that someday, you're going down, so make your peace with that or don't ride." (He didn't mean death, by the way - just an accident or "going down".) He was right. He taught us how to be as safe as possible. When I was about 13, he let me drive his car through the alleyways behind our house, and at 5mph, I still almost managed to knock over the Alvarez's trash cans along their back fence. I took my own niece to the Santa Monica Beach parking lot for her own first spin a few years ago, and she was just as scared and exhilarated as I remember being myself years earlier. I think it's good to have kids start early behind some kind of wheel, whether it's bumper cars, the Autopia ride at Disneyland, go-carts, or even a mini-bike (I know that's two wheels and different!) because it gives them an early feel for vehicles, which might reduce their fear later on when it's time to REALLY drive. The first time I drove a car alone, I was almost breathless, it was so surreal and exciting. One other thing I remember was that, being a passenger from early childhood, I realized I had mentally picked up good habits already, and they manifested when I became the driver. Any fear is long gone now. It's good you got Katie out there, even before she thought she was ready. 👍🏼

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Hilary
2/18/2018 08:27:35 pm

Oh, that mini-bike sounds fun! I also love that your dad combined that fun with safety. And yes, I remember driving the cars at Disneyland; when i was a kid, the line was always super long, and it always seemed to be more boys who were waiting. And also, because you *were* a passenger from early childhood, you already knew WAY more than I did about driving a real car. As far as Katie and her driving, she was ready when she was ready. She did do a bit of driving with Larry in South Dakota, so that was good. :)

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Rick Mayberry
2/18/2018 10:05:27 pm

I have been fascinated with cars as long as I can remember. My parents maintained that “Buick” and “Studebaker” were among my earliest intelligible words, and that I could correctly identify various makes and models of cars from a very early age. I had wanted an MG since I was about 4 years old, but had to wait for that until I was 18. I tried to elope with Lynn Holstein in her mother’s Model T Ford when we were 5, but I had problems with reaching the pedals and steering at the same time, and made it only about half a block. That put a damper on our plans…

We always had a car as far back as I can remember, and usually got a new-to-us one every five years. As luck would have it, I learned to parallel park in a 1965 Chevrolet 9-passenger station wagon - the longest production passenger car built up to that time! As a result, I was able, years later, to dazzle and image my friends by parallel parking a Winnebago motorhome in downtown Berkeley. I have to admit that I was surprised that I got it in the first try, though.

My first car was a 1962 Nash Metropolitan that I bought for $250. I was only 14 when I got it though, so I had to wait a couple of years to actually drive it. My father thought that it was pretty neat, though, and liked the 40 mpg that it got, as opposed to the solid 6 mpg of the Chevy wagon. I think he was sad to turn it over to me when the time came.

One of the conditions of my automobile ownership was that I would drive my mother, who never got her license, around on her errands. That wasn’t a bad thing, really, as it gave men a chance to catch up on my reading for school while I waited for her. One time, I happened to park my little red and white Nash next to a full-sized red and white Rambler. While I was sitting there reading, I heard a little girl exclaim, “Look Mommy - it has a baby!” That moment, in itself, made the little Metropolitan worth having!

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Hilary
2/19/2018 10:37:39 am

I remember that little car. I see them very occasionally, but usually being towed! I wonder what it would be worth today? You also mentioned your mom not driving; I think that was pretty common when we were growing up... and could explain why my mother never wanted to drive either. (A few years after I got my license, though, she got hers, too.) I can't imagine life w/out a car in California... or really, anywhere on the West Coast... even San Francisco. :)

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leslie spoon
2/19/2018 07:44:23 pm

Hilary I failed my first driver test too. I really did not want to drive but I had to. Driving in LA was scary and still is. The last time I had to go down there I flew. A lot of women in my family who were my grandmother`s age never did learn how to drive. I remember when I was about 6yrs old my mom had to pick up my dad at LAX late at night and she missed her off ramp on the Hollywood freeway so she just backed up!!! Thank god there was not much traffic back in the late 50`s.

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Hilary Grant
2/19/2018 10:08:57 pm

I've told your "backing up" story to lots of folks who lived, and still live, in Los Angeles. No one can believe it, but I can, because I remember driving on the 710 at 2 in the morning, out of downtown Long Beach, and NO ONE was on the freeway... and this was the early '70s! Also, some of the best drivers I know failed the first time around, too. :)

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Larry Grant
2/21/2018 09:19:34 am

SoCal and no car. Ouch!
Growing up in rural Ohio my experience was so different. As soon as I was tall enough to reach ther pedals and see over the steering wheel I was taught how to drive. Clutch, choke, "three-on-the-tree" and no power steering.

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Hilary Grant
2/21/2018 10:09:08 am

Driving was a necessity where you lived. My parents made the buses work for them, but I sure wish my mom had chosen to drive sooner (she didn't get her license until I was well into college). I don't think they thought about the lasting effects that no car would have on me. I certainly haven't been a perfect parent, but I tried to make sure that Katie wouldn't have these kind of scars. And, no way around it, they *are* scars.

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kerri fisher
3/4/2018 05:14:28 pm

I have done my share of bus commuting, mostly to save money but also for environmental reasons. I enjoyed being able to relax and read on my way to or from work. I enjoy driving now because of the beautiful scenery, my Sirius XM, bluetooth and heated seats I am fortunate to have.

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Hilary
3/5/2018 10:27:47 am

Well, with the decades that I had to ride the bus, I figure that my scorecard for environmental reasons was completely filled out LONG ago. :) A car with heated seats? You are living the LUXE life, girlfriend! xo

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Kim Fonturbel
4/8/2018 10:42:13 pm

Growing up we had cars and we named them. My mom named one car "The BlueBird of Happiness" "Happy" for short. "Go get in Happy, I'll be right there" she'd say. Dad had a work truck for lumber-small but with the 'racks'. I have such fond memories of living in the era where we could ride in the back of the truck. He always had Planters peanuts or Corn nuts in his glove box which he'd give us, and we'd balance them on the edge of the truck and he'd play w/ his brakes at the stoplight to try to knock them off. Wow was that fun!! we also were lucky enough to own a wood panelled station wagon in blue with the way back seats that faced each other like a booth. Ha! Lucky to have cars! I babysat like crazy to save for my first car. I have the "World Savings" bank slip of when i withdrew 1800$ to go buy my own car-toyota celica with black luuvers on window. : ) I was so proud. stick shift-so fun to drive! xo thanks for all these memories!!!

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Hilary A Grant
4/10/2018 07:33:08 pm

The first car that my parents bought--the one they bought for me to drive under limited circumstances--was a copper color, and I named it Bagel. It just seemed to fit. Larry has named some of his cars; he called his last station wagon Sadie. (He liked the name so much that as you know, it's also the name of his current dog) Our neighbors across the street--the mom was the one who took my mom grocery shopping--had a big truck, too, back in the days when having one wasn't a status symbol, but was used as a workhorse. We used to pile in the back of that while the dad drove, even going down the freeway. We never got hurt, but really, how stupid was that? Years later, I had a blind date with a man who had fallen out of the bed of a pick-up truck as a teenager and ended up w/ a horrible brain injury. His memory wasn't right and there was just something odd about him. A nice man but I didn't go out with him again. Re: traveling, I'm so fortunate to be able to do as much as I have. I hope Katie does the same!

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    Hilary Roberts Grant

    Journalist, editor, filmmaker, foodie--and a clown! 
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