The Mormor Stories: Learning to Drive

The tiny communities of the redwood country in Northern California a century ago had none of the modern conveniences we expect these days, such as a high school within each community. (My stubborn great-grandfather refused to have electricity until sometime after World War II, although that was certainly not the norm.) Roads were sparse, narrow and rough, and horse-drawn wagons far outnumbered automobiles.

But the automobile was on the rise, even in that remote and rugged forest. This is my grandmother (Mormor) Esther's story about how she learned to drive.

Earl Leventon's father was a lumberman who was very anxious for his son to go to high school, so he bought Earl a new Durant car as sort of a bribe to keep the boy in school. By that time I was a sophomore attending the nearest high school, Fortuna, and it was there that Earl also attended school. We both had to live in Fortuna but could go home weekends. Well, Earl could, but I was given enough money to take the train home about every third weekend. Anyway he invited me to ride home in his new car, which I readily accepted. Later on Earl asked me if I'd like to learn to drive the car and you can guess the answer. Finally Earl let me drive most of the way home and back nearly every week.

(Original photo stolen from these guys)

One day Ruby Patmore came to the ranch as my luncheon guest after which Earl came by to take her home and give her another driving lesson. Well, even though very few cars came by our place at that time, Ruby drove out of our lane and ran smack into a car going by. Luckily, not too much damage was suffered by either car and the occupants were not hurt at all.

However, this alerted my father to the fact that I also might be driving, so he asked me point blank if I was. When I admitted that I'd been driving to school for some time Dad forbade me to do that anymore. He pointed out that I was only fifteen, and also that an accident could take every cent he had.

Therefore I didn't drive a car again until the boyfriend (Carl) got a gear shift car. I couldn't manage the miserable Ford transmission in his former car.

Carl and Esther eventually married, parted only by her death 62 years later. There were a few more Ford transmissions in that 62-year marriage, presumably less miserable than the first.

More of my Mormor's stories are found on the sidebar, under the heading "The Mormor Stories."

Comments

[Da Goddess]

62 years. Awesome!

And that car? I grew up with cars like that.

[Rick's Cafe]

I suppose this isn't the forum to digress into a discussion (monologue) about the social issues resulting from the creation of auto insurance as it relates to personal responsibility....nahhh, I'll save it for my children - Maybe even grandchildren if those girls would every get busy :).

[Cactus Petunia]

Funny. I said that very same thing to my kids when they were 15.

And 62 years IS a long time. 33 down, 29 to go!

[Caution Flag]

And here I thought I invented the idea of fretting about what an accident could cost me. This is a pretty big and disappointing revelation for me, you know.

[Bob Cleveland]

62 years only seems THAT long when you're young. When you're 70, and have been married 50 years, it doesn't.

I was only 7 years old when WWII ended, and I can remember that clearly and it's been 63 years.

Actually, I feel like a little kid again. You know, eating, sleeping, crying, and wearing diapers.

:)

[Chesapeake Bay Woman]

If I even live 62 years on this planet it will be a miracle, never mind being married to the same person for 62 years. If I were to get married right now now, and I'm not, that would make me over 100 when I reached 62 years of marital bliss.

Sixty two years. That's a long time. I won't mention anything about Carl's gear shift and how it may have influenced those sixty two years.

Sixty two years. Incredible.