Courage Behind the Wheel

Posted on by Victoria

I saw a sweet father-daughter moment the other day as a new driver slowly circled an empty parking lot with her father (I presumed) riding along – pointing and directing as they swooped and turned and practiced parking, reversing and cornering. I smiled as I passed them and thought about my dad, Sonny, and what a great driving instructor he was. 

One of his roles involved global distribution for an oil company but he got his start walking pipelines to repair broken fittings and driving 16-wheel tanker trucks with flammable contents.  He was a success story – the small-town boy who ‘made good’ despite his impoverished upbringing.  I’ve written about many of his endearing qualities in the past, but I’ve never shared his talents in instilling courage in me…especially when I was a super shaky new driver. I’ll explain…

Have I ever shared that my mom, Sue, drove with her knees?  Maybe I mentioned it in “Surviving Sue” because it was one of the reasons why our daughter was rarely allowed to be a passenger in any vehicle driven by Sue.  The fact that she was a former school bus driver just added to the shivers.  Exuberant and distracted were descriptors of Sue throughout her life – including the times when she had vulnerable youngsters riding along as she drove a ‘big yellow’. 

But Sonny – my dad?  He was the original cautious driver. I thought about that skill set when I saw the dad and daughter recently as they slowly drove around in an empty lot.  I remember doing that with my dad.  Loop-de-loops for fun and plenty of practice time…I needed all the help I could get.  Stopping and starting and judging distances were okay and I even mastered parallel parking because Sonny was so patient.  After hours of behind-the-wheel practice time with him, I developed confidence but was still terrified of getting on the open road because I assumed every other car was going to barrel into me.  Now I understand I was manifesting parts of the vulnerability I felt as a result of life with Sue, but at the time, I chalked the upswell of anxiety to nerves.  Normal nerves. Now I know better – I was terrified.

Sonny was patient and offered resources and assurances.  Never – not once – did he dismiss my fears.  In fact, he lauded them.  Pulling me into his knowledge bank from his professional life, he allowed me to visit his office and review training materials developed exclusively for hazardous materials drivers.  The folks he looked out for, on the job, in order to protect life and property while transporting highly combustible chemicals. 

He had a fancy office, but he preferred spending his days ‘walking the plant’ and getting into the bull pens and training rooms.  I loved the grittier parts of the refinery where ugly Steelcase furniture from the 50’s remained – still shiny and indestructible matching chairs and file cabinets. Kinda like these:

Oh…speaking of file cabinets…if you haven’t read “Surviving Sue” you won’t understand…but Sue’s favorite hiding spot for secret documents was an ugly ‘gray-green’ cabinet – just like this one – that she pilfered from a refinery.  The cabinet was as much of a character in Sue’s story as any human.

Wearing – every day – one of his trademark starched white short-sleeved shirts, Sonny would eagerly slip into his coveralls when we went to the ‘plant’. 

Quiet on a Saturday or Sunday, he’d show me around under the pretext of providing driving tips.  I’d climb into the front seat of a rig and marvel at the massive dashboard and gearshifts as he pointed out the blind spots and the dangers for the drivers.  He’d walk me to the yard so I could see the tank farm and understand how the tanker trucks were loaded up and he’d explain who the “manifest” guys were who’d schedule deliveries to gas stations far and wide and to airports, too.

He explained the safety drills and the time spent training drivers before any wheels were in motion.  Given the time period – late 70’s – it was state-of-the-art to have massive VHS decks and tapes as fancy training tools.  I watched some of the videos and marveled at the courage of the drivers, despite the dangers.  The simulation footage of spills and fires were hokey and had all the bad acting of afterschool specials, but I was riveted by the risks involved.

All the while, Sonny knew exactly what he was doing as he slowly ramped up my knowledge, so I was ready to understand the cornerstones of what defensive driving meant.  I wonder now if he saw what I tried to hide:  my pervasive fear was mostly a by-product of Sue’s reckless driving.  Did he know that I worried that EVERY driver on the road might be a version of Sue?

He never said so, but he normalized and validated my fears by being the best driving instructor EVER. He made me feel seen, heard, acknowledged.  Terror and all.  Even the drivers of the big trucks were scared, I learned.  As Sonny explained, he boiled the lessons down to this: 

Assume everyone on the road IS a danger to you.  Plain.  Simple.  And act accordingly.  Slow down.  Never be a distracted driver. Pull over if you need to.  Count “Mississippis” to ensure you’re not following too closely. 

I’m sure the dad I saw recently was giving his daughter wisdom of his own and I loved how that little observation of them triggered such a loving memory of how my own papa instilled courage in me.  Knowledge is power and the 16-wheel tanker trucks told stories I’ll never forget.

P.S. Take a peek at my Victoria Ponders post for a glimpse at another driving-related tale.  I promise it will make you smile…but somewhere, in the great beyond, my dad must be wondering what the world’s come to. On so many levels.

Peace and love,

Vicki ❤

50 thoughts on “Courage Behind the Wheel”

  1. Pingback: Push Those Buttons! – Victoria Ponders

  2. What an interesting couple your parents were, Vicki. One creating danger and one looking for ways to master it. Well-matched? The question isn’t mine to answer.

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    1. I like your observation, Dr. Stein. More than once they were referred to as ‘oil and water’ and polar opposites in some ways. I think my dad was attracted to Sue’s wild side…her danger. When they could cancel each other out and find middle ground, life was good…but the other times? I like your wondering heart about this. Me, too. 🥰

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  4. Sonny sounds like such a lovely man. You were lucky to have him share your wisdom as you were learning to drive.

    To this day, my daughters refuse to drive with my husband in the car. They say “He criticizes our driving all the time and makes us nervous.” My response “I’ve been driving for 40 years and he still criticizes my driving.” Oh to be perfect! LOL

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    1. LOL indeed! I love your daughters’ refusal. Yep – nothing worse than being made MORE nervous while driving. Cheers to you for developing some tolerance. (And thanks, too, for the sweet comment about my papa.) 🥰

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  5. As a parent, I shivered when you mentioned Sue drove buses. Ack! Also as a parent, I appreciate the heck out of your dad’s acknowledging your fears and encouraging you as he did, and how clearly that informs the beauty of this post. ❤

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  6. Oh, this is so sweet. Brings me shivers thinking about the driving lessons my dad gave me. But more than that, Sonny’s lessons normalizing your fear were absolutely amazing. The description of a “people person” comes to mind about him – but of course that’s not exactly right. He was an “uplifter” – is that better? Where did he get that? And he passed it on to you, along with the driving lessons. So sweet?

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    1. Gosh, that’s such a great question, Wynne – about the source of Sonny’s goodness. His father had a nickname that stuck with him throughout his whole life – “Happy” (his given name was Daniel) and I was told his nickname suited him because of his loving personality. I only knew my grandpa for a few years, and he WAS a light-hearted, supportive, grateful person. Maybe that’s where Sonny’s disposition came from? Again…don’t want we want these departed loved ones to pop back in so we could ask questions, better understand?! xo to you! 🥰

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  7. Such a great story, Vicki. I wonder if it’s a daddy-daughter thing, bonding in the car during driving instructions. I still remember certain moments and I know she does because I catch her telling stories to her friends about some of those 17 year old moments

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    1. I think you might be right! I have friends whose mothers were great driving instructors too…so maybe it’s a fond (or not so fond!) parenting memory for some of us. I love that your daughter can recall some of that time with you. I think those driving milestones are big ones and stuff sticks with us! xo! 🥰

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  8. Oh the memories of learning to drive! Sonny could have had a second career- teaching high schoolers what it means to be a great driver, and yes a good dose of fear comes into that equation. 🙂

    I can see clearly how and why you have been able to balance out all that was Sue…Sonny was a guiding force I suspect that shaped how you learned to deal with and function with such an interesting mom. I like Wynne’s word- “uplifter” as well. I would add the word stabilizer as well I think, and that role is essential when it comes to driving 😉

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    1. You make my heart sing, Deb. Truly. Yep. I think Sonny helped to balance out Sue…even when I wished he’d done more. And your thought about ‘stabilizer’. You are so good. Yes. I think you’re right. xo, dear one! 🥰

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  9. How incredible is it to be made acutely aware of the risks and then have those fears allayed? I think that’s the key to safe, defensive driving and I think Sonny knew that. How lucky you were to learn from the best! 🥰

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  10. What a loving heartfelt post, Vicki. Your father seems such a kind and endearing person. How fortunate you were to havehim as your father. Your story stirs fond memories of my father, too. Thank you for that.

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  11. How wonderful your dad was to not discount your fears. I suffer from anxiety driving now, which I didn’t have years ago. The other day, we were on the freeway and a giant truck was on our bumper. We were in the carpool lane — and he passed us on the lefthand shoulder! Every time I’m on the freeways near Phoenix, I see crashes. I am believing my fear is warranted. There’s always a few drivers going over 100 mph.

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  12. Those sounded more than just driving lessons, but a great father and daughter bonding moment – and lifetime of memories. Good thing you didn’t pick up driving tips from Sue. Driving with the knees, yikes!

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  15. You got me thinking about what kind of drivers-Ed teacher I was with my own kids. Sadly, I was pretty bad. Mainly because I know how bad other drivers can be! My smartest move was answering their questions but letting their mother teach them and then when they were driving, showing my trust in them, by sitting in the passenger seat, and reading my phone and shutting up! Ha ha ha. Beautiful post Vicki.

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    1. LOL…sadly, she made it look easy….too easy! She’d move the seat as far up as possible so her knees could be in the 8 and 4 positions and she was good to go. The worst part was when she’d reach for stuff in her big purse on the floor on the passenger’s side. Please do not try this at home! 😜

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  19. What a wonderful glimpse of your father. My father was the one who took me out driving on a Sunday to his deserted work parking lot. He taught me stick because the high school only had automatics. My folks didn’t buy automatics until much later in life, and by the time Mom hit her sixties and seventies, she was a scary driver. Dad would comment the few times I visited and drove him here or there how relieved he was to not have Mom drive him.

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  20. I grew up around those ugly ‘gray-green’ metal cabinets. Seeing that photo takes me back to my dad’s office. Not your point here, but kind of interesting to me that one photo can be such a catalyst for long forgotten stories.

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    1. I love that you connected with that aspect of the post, Ally. I wondered if it was too much of a departure from the heart of what I wrote…but I, too, have some fun memories of my dad’s office related to the furniture. Big surprise (not!) that you and I would connect about that…LOL…you ARE my very visual design maven friend. xo to you! 🥰

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  23. Oh…thank you for that, dear Kathy…same! I need to clear out a few projects but “In Search Of…” is on my list, too. I’ve loved every bit of what you’ve shared so far but it’s not the same as holding the book in my hands. And yes…golly, yes. Driving with her knees. And this from the woman who once drove big yellow school buses…with children on board. Oof indeed! Big hugs to you…hope you’re having a really good day and hope things are easing up for you as you head into Thanksgiving week. xo! 🥰

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