Sunday afternoons were my day to shine. Certainly the days were much brighter after I learned that the vehicle went forward when you applied enough gas while letting out the clutch with a certain amount of smoothness and togetherness in a time frame that wasn’t rushed, yet wasn’t all that slow all the same.
There was a certain feeling of being alone with those huge banks of dirts surrounding the path. The second lesson was that you never really expected to see anyone else, but at the same time, you had to expect to see another car, or truck, as you drove around each blind corner.
I took my driving test in that car/truck. It was raining, and yes it was hard enough to always keep those vacuum wipers a step behind. But I passed, even the parallel parking in a truck.
As time passed, those roads became a location for potentially impressing my female classmates and younger with my world-class driving ability. I had a friend with a 1940s Ford, and we would supposedly race through the spoil banks with passengers aboard.
We never got that close, and in case you are wondering, I met my wife in college several years later. So much for the big impressions made.
The construction continues on, and with an overpass beginning to stretch from south to north, U.S. 50 is slowly beginning to lose those feelings.
Still, with each trip through embankments, I can’t help but remember days filled with learning to drive and the patience of a father.
Gregg Sims has never been a professional driver or racer, despite spending a few nights just north of Winslow potentially exceeding posted speed limits. In fact, most who know him wonder how he got a license to drive in the first place. Write him at firstname.lastname@example.org