As a kid in the sixties my mother didn’t drive and my dad worked during the day, so as a result, my Grandfather drove us everywhere.  I loved my Grandfather, he was a really great guy, unfortunately, driving wasn’t one of his better skills.  It was also the only time he cursed, which by today’s standards would be relatively tame.  He’d yell, “Look at that damn Jackass!” As he ran the poor fellow off the road.  My Grandma would try to cover my ears, but it was always too late, so Jackass became a word in my early vocabulary that I used pretty indiscriminately, much to my family’s dismay.  But that’s another story completely.

I really don’t think my Grandfather knew he was a bad driver, he just was a little confused as to who had the right of way.  It was usually him, at least in his mind.  Since it was the sixties only the busiest intersections had traffic lights and most railroad crossing just had a flashing light to warn you of an approaching train, the merest suggestion to stop in my grandfather’s eyes.  He also hated any suggestions from non drivers, like my grandmother or my mother.

“John don’t go, the train is right there!” was often met with.  “Don’t be a damn backseat driver.”   Then he’d go, with all us in the car praying frantically for our lives.  Yep, too many close calls to even count.  I’m just saying, I lived through many cringe worthy moments as a child, and as a result, I’ve never really cared for railroad crossings.

Things were different in the sixties.  I imagine he had car insurance, I was too young to worry about those sorts of things.  I just don’t remember hearing any mention of it.  He probably hit someone at least every other week, but it was never a big deal.  The two parties would get out, inspect the damage, (usually it was very minimal) they would both offer the other apologies and go on their way.  Cars were built like tanks back then, so my grandfather would go home, buff the other guy’s paint off his bumper and pretend it never happened.  Sometimes he would grumble for a couple of days about how stupid the other guy was, for not paying attention or something like that.  It seems like a totally different world now.

My Grandfather died in the mid 1970’s and I have missed him ever since.  I don’t know how he would feel about what our world has become.  I feel safe in saying that he probably wouldn’t have set foot on a modern day interstate where the speed limit can be over 70 miles an hour.  Though he had grown up in the country, he had lived his entire adult life in the city and he was used to city driving.  I don’t think I ever saw him drive over 55 miles an hour.   He usually drove under the speed limit, which was good, since he tended to not yield to the person who had the right of way.

In this day and age I fear my Grandfather would not be able to afford the insurance premiums of his accident prone lifestyle.  I hope that on the roads there in heaven, my Grandpa always has the green light.

By guest blogger Jean Marie Stanberry, author of “Laying Low in Hollywood”, “One World United” and her newest book, “The Illusion of Order”.