Learning To Drive

Learning to drive is a right of passage I take completely for granted these days. Though at the time it consumed me just like it did every teenager starting at age 16. It did not let up until I had received my license sometime after my 17th birthday. Gas was $.50 a gallon and had gone up significantly after the oil shock of 1974. It was still cheap enough that we could empty all of our pals pockets for donations and have enough to cruise around on a Saturday night. Up and down Ridgewood Avenue we would go looking for other people doing the same and possibly word of a party at some unsuspecting parent's house.

In those days it didn't matter if the car only had an AM radio, as long as we were out of the house and moving around we were content. If we could find some girls who wanted to sit in the back seat and drive around with us then that was all the better.

When it was hot the windows would be down and we would hear the sounds on the street as we drove. It was sometimes the best form of communications that we had, and usually it was the only type since we cruised in the era before cellphones. Though 0ur communications could also be non-verbal and be left entirely to the drivers of the cars, especially if we were in a car with some horsepower that could go fast on route 208. It was well known among hot rod enthusiasts that if you hooked up a single white light near your back license plate and flashed it at another hot rod that this was a challenge for a race. I can't say I was in any races ala American Graffiti, but I did on one occasion ride "shotgun" while my driver played a dangerous game of "getting on the rear" of the car in front of us in an attempt to intimidate and show how fast his car could run. In those days we were immortal and split second decisions about safety were usually shouted down by those in the car. It was scary and stupid but all a part of growing up.