Comments on: Old photos – old stories http://tucsoncitizen.com/stories/2010/02/old-photos-old-stories/ Creating Community One Story at a Time Thu, 20 Sep 2012 01:56:00 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.5.1 By: Penelope Starr http://tucsoncitizen.com/stories/2010/02/old-photos-old-stories/comment-page-1/#comment-337 Penelope Starr Thu, 25 Feb 2010 23:35:52 +0000 http://tucsoncitizen.com/stories/?p=186#comment-337 Great story, Albert.
I borrowed Frank Worth’s 53 something (maybe a Dodge) for my drivers test in 1961 because my parents’ cars were all manual transmission and his was an automatic.  The only problem with that big boat is that it had no power steering!  I manage to pass on the first try, even the parallel parking.
That’s the thing about telling a story – it triggers another and another.

]]> By: Albert Vetere Lannon http://tucsoncitizen.com/stories/2010/02/old-photos-old-stories/comment-page-1/#comment-336 Albert Vetere Lannon Thu, 25 Feb 2010 17:00:34 +0000 http://tucsoncitizen.com/stories/?p=186#comment-336 One of the differences between city and country kids is cars.  Country kids grow up with them as a necessity and learn everything before adolescence, including how to fix them.  I grew up in New York City, with subways and busses and ferries, and was totally ignorant about cars, except that, of course, I wanted one.  I, and others on my Lower East Side block, actually learned how to drive on the Jewish holy days, when Orthodox Jews were prohibited from operating machinery.  New York had/has alternate side of the street parking for street cleaners, and so we kids were paid a quarter to move those cars from one side to another.

When I was 17 I had quit school and was working and saving up for a chopped-down ’49 Ford that cost $200.  I saved the money and then went to find out about the mandatory insurance.  That would cost $600.  End of that car dream.

When I was 18 my future brother-in-law, in the air force, was transferred from Texas to England, and he drove his ’49 Chevy with a ’53 engine and left it with his sister and me.  I did what we all did, learned on stick shift and then rented an automatic for my driving test to avoid any chance of screwing up. 

I took my girlfriend and some friends out for a drive in the Texas Chevy (still had the Texas plates) the night I got my license, and made my way over to the elevated West Side Highway.  I stayed in the right lane, being so cautious I bumped the curb a few times.  Finally I got daring and pulled over into the left lane.  Almost immediately a police car came up behind me, lights flashing, siren wailing, but I was not sure enough of myself to pull into the right lane because of traffic.  I didn’t know how much room I’d need.  So I went faster and faster, until I was running at 90 mph with the cops on my tail.  Finally there was what I deemed sufficient space and I moved to the right lane, and the police kept going, off to whatever emergency was calling and glad that this punk in the Texas Chevy got out of their way.

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