by Janet McAllister Hounsell
Conway, New Hampshire, USA
It was just one small step for womankind, but my mother became a hero to me when she got her driver’s license.
In the 1930s, not all men were averse to their wives learning to drive, but plenty of them were. Back then, the family car was unquestionably the property of the husband, and very few families had more than one vehicle. It was probably a power thing, but many men didn’t see any need for their wives to attain such freedom. Goodness, not long before, womenfolk had revolted and bobbed their beautiful hair!
Dad was a mechanic and Mother a shop clerk. I was the only child, about nine years old at the time. We rented the downstairs of a big house on a tree-lined street in a good-sized city in Vermont. Part of the rent covered the use of the “garage” on the property.
Dad had a late-model Nash car of which he was very proud. Unfortunately, the “garage” was merely a converted former railroad car barn. Not only did the back of the car stick through the doors by a foot, making it impossible to lock the building, but the structure was so narrow one could not open the car door to get out! Dad got permission to cut a door into the side of the building. It was still pretty tricky to drive the Nash in or back it out.
Dad was not a cruel man, but it was obvious that he wasn’t about to teach Mother to drive. She was not a terribly assertive woman, so I was a bit amazed when I discovered that she waited ’til Dad was sleeping, “borrowed” the car keys, and drove all over the city!
Of course, it was against the law for an unlicensed driver to do this. Still, Mother drove up and down hills, shifted gears up and down, practiced parking, stopping, and starting, and, in free daytime moments, studied her driver’s manual.
When she returned, turning off the car lights as she drove into the driveway, one can only imagine how she felt. Would he be awake and justifiably angry? Would I have awakened and called out for her? Once I accidentally found out what was going on, I stayed awake until I heard the car returning safely, but Dad slept the sleep of the just every night.
I’ll never forget the look on her face — or his! — the night she served up dessert along with her new driver’s license and offered to drive Dad downtown to see a picture show!
Without even meaning to, Mother taught me that females were NOT secondhand citizens. I decided that anyone with a little gumption could achieve her goals!
Available in The Best of HeroicStories, Volume 1.
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LOVE THIS STORY!!!
My mother never learned to drive. Much as he loved her, my dad apparently convinced her that she was unable to understand the mechanics of driving, and she gave up after a few attempts with him as her teacher. My parents never had more than one car, even after I married and left home, so when he died, she still had to rely on others to take her wherever she needed to go.
I sometimes wonder how it would have changed her life if she had gotten someone else to teach her and obtained her license. I resolved not to be stuck waiting for my husband to make time to take me for my driving test, and asked a neighbor to take me to the DMV. I was 26!
What a lovely story.