I was using the time before summer school started at Western Illinois to hitchhike to Colorado but I went the long way around so I could stop in Rolla, Missouri where I had spent a year at Missouri Mines. I had planned to stay on campus for only 1 or 2 nights before continuing but the school librarian said that if I could wait another day or two I could ride with him all the way to Ft. Collins. And help with the driving.
When I told him I didn’t drive and didn’t have a license he said I should go get one, “just in case’. So I went to the driver’s license place, filled out the application form, paid my 25 cents and received the receipt that made me a legal driver, at least in the state of Missouri in 1947. I never received the actual license as it would have expired on my next birthday, only about 3 months away.
I got the free ride to Fort Collins but fortunately didn’t have to do any of the driving.
One Saturday night when I was in high school .. maybe a sophomore ….three or four of us kids drove to Peoria in this one guys’ car …. I no longer have any idea what kind it was. Anyway for some reason the owner/operator said I could drive while we were in Peoria. He reminded me where the essential switches and levers were and away we went. I wish I could say that this driving lesson influenced me to continue driving, but getting the car’s wheels stuck in the trolley tracks and having to go where the street car tracks went until somebody helped me didn’t do much for my ego. Particularly with my 3 buddies laughing at me.
Back in my high school days I had library cards in three cities—Galva, Kewanee and Galesburg– and during summer vacation I would often hitch hike to and from Kewanee and Galesburg to get or return books. This particular day I was returning from Galesburg and hadn’t had much luck catching a ride. The best I had done was to get within 10 or 12 miles of my home, Galva. I had been waiting on the side of US 34 for quite sometime when an old model Ford with an old man and woman in it stopped. I ran to their car and started to get in when the driver asked where I was going. I told him just about 15 miles down the road Then he said that he was very tired and would I drive until Galva. I told him I didn’t have a driver’s license and didn’t really know how to drive. He said “oh, it’s easy. I’ll show you how.” So, what the heck. Some ride was better than no ride. The old lady got in the back seat, the old man got in the passenger seat and yours truly got in the driver’s seat. I was shown the accelerator, the clutch, the brakes and how to shift gears.
My driving career went very well until we reached Galva. I opted to go in on a side street and around the back way instead of through town. I wanted to slow down to make a turn but couldn’t find the brake pedal. I slowed down very abruptly when I hit the car parked on the corner. Oh, my. I apologized profusely to the old man and told him how to get through town and that I would walk the rest of the way home.
That night, at supper, my dad broke the news that one of the city’s official cars had been hit that day and no one knew who did it. I believe I made our weekly newspaper and it was months before I felt home free.
My final driving experience was the summer of 1950 when I was in school at Western Illinois and my room mate wanted his #2 car to be ferried to him in Keithsburg, Illinois where he was visiting his fiancé. Of course I still didn’t have a driver’s license but I had more confidence than sense. Fortunately it was only about 50 miles and almost a straight shot from McComb to Keithburg. Or it would have been if I hadn’t elected to go through Galesburg, a fairly large city. I’ll never really know how I managed to drive through this city without having to stop at a traffic light or for any other reason. But I did, finally, deliver the car to Don in Keithsburg so he had time to repair the car’s brakes before he took it on his wedding trip.