Driving. In my youth I viewed it as an almost sacred rite of passage. A distinguishing life event separating youth from maturity, boy from man. Typically, one from our neck of the woods would first test a “learner permit” at the age of 15. This allows one to drive a motor vehicle while accompanied by an adult. At the age of 16 one can obtain an official license allowing one to drive without adult supervision.
My sister, Stacy, was gifted a beautiful used vehicle. I do not remember the make or model, just that it was white with light blue hues and was decorated with something that looked like a horse or a pony. It was a thing of beauty.
In my desire to change my status from boy to man, I made a hasty decision one afternoon. Rather than wait to be properly guided and taught the details of driving at a suitable age, I made a choice to take that vehicle for a drive. An opportune moment presented when there was no one around to prevent me from acting.
I had observed enough people driving to understand the fundamental concepts of driving a stick-shift. I covertly obtained the keys to the vehicle and set out on my quest. Starting the vehicle, I depressed the clutch, slid the shifter into reverse then slowly backed the vehicle up the driveway. Turning left out on the old dirt road, I pointed the vehicle in the direction of Lovell Lake and set forth.
It was easier than I thought it would be. Clutch, shift, accelerate while releasing the clutch. I had a flawless drive to the shore of the lake not far from our house. I then started the return trip. Shortly after turning up Road 12 ½ and prematurely savoring the glory of a successful journey, and imagining a future career in NASCAR, things took a turn for concern.
The car began sputtering and stuttering. Thinking I was doing something incorrectly, I shifted to neutral and braked to a stop with intent of letting the car idle for a moment before starting again. Within seconds the vehicle completely stopped running and only then did I realize the problem was not my skills driving, but in the observation and understanding of nuance in vehicle control. The car had no fuel. I was 150 yards from our driveway.
I attempted to push the car down the road, an impossible task for the 14-year-old skinny youth that I was. Instead, I found a trick that solved my problem and helped me easily return the vehicle to its proper place in the lineup of cars in front of the garage. The trick was to place the car in first gear then turned the ignition as if to start the car. The battery and turning of the starter essentially made the car into an electrical vehicle. Each turn slowly moving the vehicle up the road. The first attempt began with the natural, clear sound of a vehicle attempting to start. With each subsequent attempt the sound slowly morphed into what I could only think of as two pigs in a fight, squealing and shrieking with occasional grunting mixed in. Despite the unsettling noises coming from under the hood I made it to the top of our driveway. Once there I simply coasted down the slight hill and parked the car back into its original parking place.
Thinking myself quite clever, I quickly placed the keys back the hook and continued my day privately reveling in success. Unfortunately, the “secret trick” I used stripped the gear on the starter. This was discovered after my father filled the car with gas and attempted to check the vehicle for proper function. It was later revealed that it functioned properly before I took it for a drive. I am still not sure who spotted me and spilled the beans to my father, the fallout of these events affecting me until the end of high school.
Most people of any level of intelligence would have learned their lesson that day and stayed on their best behavior. Not I Scrawny Johnny. Still harboring that secret feeling of success that if the vehicle had enough gas there would have been no problem. I viewed myself as a driver of unmatched skill.
Several years after the events of that day, I obtained my proper driver’s license and was legally allowed to drive. The problem now was that I was not allowed to drive any of the family vehicles and did not yet have one of my own. Keep in mind, these were the days before smart phones and the internet, so the most popular activity in town was to drag Main Street. Lovell has one long main road straight through the middle of town with the billowing, disturbingly fragrant sugar factory (one of my favorite smells in the world competing for the top spot with the Hyart Theater) at one end and the other end gifting drivers with a convenient turn around spot next to the Horseshoe Bend Motel.
High school students seeking social interaction with the rest of the herd would drive their vehicles up and down this street. Beginning at the high school young drivers would turn East onto the nearby Main Street to begin the circuit, occasionally stopping for the one traffic light in the middle of town, they would then make their way to the turn around point where they would head West back to the high school. Wash, rinse, repeat. After several cycles some students would then congregate in the middle of town at the old IGA parking lot.
I longed to join in this migratory pattern as a driver not a passenger. I could legally drive but needed to obtain a vehicle. The sting of punishment from the last time I used a family vehicle without permission having faded over the years, I decided one fateful day to attempt this again. With both of my parents at work, I took the keys to our faithful, sturdy white Toyota pickup truck and headed out down main street.
As I started my first ever trek down that long, arrow-straight stretch of concrete through the heart of town, I was feeling quite full of myself. I was finally a member of the local elite. No longer coming along for the ride but controlling the ride. I shortly found myself trailing a gloss black brand-new Ford Mustang. I double checked everything, speed, vehicles behind or beside me, recalling that I properly used turn signals when changing lanes, and ensuring I had a full tank of gas to avoid the mishap I experienced years earlier. I was confident that everything was in good order.
The sleek, spotless Ford Mustang neared the lone traffic light in town displaying the brilliant green glow meaning go. As the car was mere feet before the open space where Nevada Avenue crosses Main Street the light flashed yellow reminding approaching vehicles to clear the intersection. I deemed the vehicle in front of me to be too close to the line for a timely stop and deduced that like any normal vehicle they would continue through the intersection leaving me in the pole position at the red light. Well, neither the car nor driver in front of me were normal. Braking suddenly the car screeched to a halt with the nose of the vehicle perfectly flush with the line on the ground demarking the safe stopping zone and exactly in my planned stopping location.
It was a little shocking the force that one solid steel Toyota pickup driving at less than 20 miles per hour can create when hitting a completely stopped Mustang. Knocking the Mustang into the middle of the intersection and ultimately stopping exactly where I originally planned to, I sat there stunned for a moment unsure of what had just happened.
Moments later I stepped out of the pickup to inspect the scene as I was approached by the driver of the other car.
“Oh Scrawny, what have you done?”
“What have I done? You were too close to the intersection for that sudden stop. You should have cleared the intersection by driving through allowing the following vehicle the time and space needed to stop.”
“Well, Scrawny, sadly for you, I am the highway patrol officer with the brand-new cruiser. Therefore, regardless of how you may analyze the situation this is ultimately your fault.”
Yes, I rearended Al Clavette in his newly acquired black and white Mustang cruiser.
After our brief conversation together, we walked to the pay phone nearby (remember this is pre-mobile phone days) where he called the Sugar Factory and asked for my mother.
“Hello Vickie, I am calling to inform you that as I was driving down Main Street I have just been hit by a large white bird.”
“Yes, a large white bird has just hit my vehicle and I will need you to come to the intersection of Main Street and Nevada Avenue immediately.”
I could imagine my mother’s confusion with the “big white bird” moniker. But you should know this was not my first run in with Mr. Clavette, and there was a very good reason to address me as such.
This was not the shining moment of triumph for me that I imagined it would be. Rather than joining in with the masses following school that day, I found myself the target of countless eyes passing by the scene of the accident. In each pair staring widely at me I saw a myriad of emotions ranging from shock to disappointment to awe. None of them could contend with the emotions my mother had for me upon arriving at the scene.
The following morning at school I was greeted with a new, short-lived but well-earned nickname: Cop Killer.
Dreams of NASCAR fame dimming a little further, but not yet fully extinguished, that came later.
駕駛。在我年輕的時候，我認爲這是一個幾乎神聖的成年禮。一個區別於青春與成熟，男孩與男人的區別人生的事件。通常，我們懷俄明州的人會在15歲時首先考“學習許可證”，可以在成年人的陪同下駕駛機動車輛。在16歲時，一個人可以獲得官方執照，允許在沒有成人監督的情況下駕駛。
有一次，我大姐Stacy收到禮物一輛漂亮的二手車。我已經不記得品牌或型號，只記得它是白色的，帶有淺藍調，裝飾著看起來像嗎或小馬的商標。是一輛美麗的車。
爲了改變自己從男孩到男人的身份，一天下午，我匆忙做出了一個決定。我沒有等待在合適的年齡得到適當的指導和教導駕駛的細節，而是選擇當時駕駛那輛車。當周圍沒有人阻止我採取行動時，一個合適的時機出現了。
我觀察了足夠多的人開車，以理解駕駛手排檔的車的基本概念。我偷偷拿到了車的鑰匙，開始了我的探索。啓動車輛，我踩下離合器，將變速杆滑入倒擋，然後慢慢地將車輛倒入車道。在老土路左轉，我把車指向洛弗爾湖的方向，然後出發了。
這比我原來想象的要簡單。踩下離合器，換擋，加速同時放鬆離合器。我完美地開車到離我們家不遠的湖岸。然後我開始了回程。轉入12 ½號公路我提早地品嘗了成功旅程的榮耀，並開始想想著未來在NASCAR的職業生涯后不久，事情就發生了令人擔憂的轉折。
汽車開始濺射和發出結結巴巴的聲音。我以爲做錯了什麽，我換到空擋並刹車停下來，目的是讓汽車閑置片刻，然後再啓動。幾秒鐘后，車輛完全停止運行，那時我才意識到問題不在於我開車技能，而是在觀察和理解車輛控制中的細節方面。汽車沒有油。我離我們家停車位150碼。
我試圖把車推到路上，對我這13歲瘦小青年來説，這是一項不可能完成的任務。相反，我想到了一個解決為問題的技巧，並讓我輕鬆地將車輛返回到在停車庫前正確的位置上。訣竅是將汽車置於一檔，然後轉動點火開關，就像啓動汽車一樣。電池和啓動器的轉動基本上使汽車變得電動車。每次轉動啓動器，車輛慢慢地向前移動。第一次嘗試始於汽車試圖啓動的自然清晰的聲音。隨著隨後的每一次嘗試，聲音慢慢演變成我只能描述為兩頭豬在打架的聲音，尖叫聲中夾雜著偶爾的咕嚕聲。儘管發動機罩下傳來令人不安的噪音，我還是達到了我們車道的頂部。到了那裏，我就簡單地滑下小山坡，把車停回原來的停車位。
我以爲自己很聰明，趕緊把鑰匙放回鈎子上，私下裏繼續我的一天，為成功而陶醉。不幸的是，我是用的“秘密技巧” 剝離了啓動器上的齒輪。這是在我父親給汽車加油並試圖檢查車輛功能是否正常后發現的。我父親知道在我開車之前，它運行正常。我仍然還不確定誰看見我開車並向我父親露餡兒，但這件事的後果直到高中畢業一直影響著我。
大多數智力水準的人都會在那天吸取教訓，並保持他們最好的行爲。但是我，骨瘦如柴約-翰尼沒有。我仍然有一種秘密的成功感，如果車輛有足夠的汽油，就不會有問題。我認爲自己是一位擁有無與倫比的技能的車手。
那天事件發生幾年后，我獲得了適當的駕駛執照，並被合法地允許開車。現在的問題是，我父母不允許我駕駛任何家用車輛， 而且我還沒有自己的汽車。要記住，這些是手機和互聯網出現之前的日子, 所以鎮上最受歡迎的活動是 “drag Main Street”. 洛弗爾有一條長長的幹道，直接穿過鎮中心，一端有翻滾，令人不安的芬芳的糖廠（這個氣味和Hyart 劇院氣味還是我世界上最喜歡的兩個氣味）另一端，在Horseshoe Bend旅館前面為司機提供一個方便回來的轉彎點。
尋找與其他群體進行社交互動的高中生這條街上會駕駛他們的車輛來回穿後。從高中停車場開始，年輕的車手會向東轉入主街. 他們偶爾會在鎮中心的唯一的紅綠燈前停下來，然後前往轉彎點，後來向西返回高中前的停車場。清晰，漂洗，重複。幾個周期后，一些學生會聚集在市中心的舊IGA超市的停車場。
我希望以司機而不是乘客的身份加入這種遷徙模式。我可以合法駕駛，但需要獲得車輛。多年來，我上次未經許可使用家用車輛時遭受的懲罰已經消失了，我又決定嘗試一次。在我父母都在工作的情況下，我拿著我們忠實，堅固的白色豐田皮卡車的鑰匙，沿著主街道向外走去。
當我開始第一次沿著那條長長，直接穿過鎮中心的混泥土路上開車時，我心裏感到非常驕傲。我終於成爲當地精英的一員。很快，我發現自己尾隨一輛亮黑色的全新福特野馬。我仔細檢查了一切，速度，我身後和旁邊的車輛，回想起我在變道時正確使用了轉向燈，並確保我有一箱滿的汽油以避免我幾年前經歷的狀況。我相信一切都井井有條。
那輛時尚，一塵不染的福特野馬靠近鎮上唯一的紅綠燈，顯示出燦爛的綠色光芒，意味著出發。由於汽車距離内華達大道與主街交叉的空地僅幾英尺，黃燈閃爍，提醒接近的車輛清理十字路口。我認爲前面的野馬車輛離綫太近，無法及時停下來，並推斷出，像任何正常車輛一樣，它會繼續通過十字路口，讓我停在紅燈綫首發位置。但是，我前面的車和司機都不正常。刹車時，汽車猛地停了下來，車頭與地面上劃定安全停車區的綫完全齊平，剛好在我計劃停的位置。
一輛以低於20英里/小時的速度行駛的實心鋼製豐田皮卡在撞上完全停下來的野馬時會產生的力量，這有點令人震驚。我把野馬撞到十字路口中間，最終停在我原計劃的地方，我呆呆地坐在那裏，不確定剛剛發生了什麽。
過了一會兒，我下車去檢查現場，另一輛車的司機走進了我。
“骨瘦如柴，你做了什麽?”
“我做了什麽？你離十字路口太近了，以至於突然停了下來。你應該開車過十字路口，讓後面的車輛有停下來所需的時間和空間。”
“嗯，骨瘦如柴，對你來説很遺憾，我是開著嶄新警車的員警。因此，無論你如何分析情況，這最終都是你的錯。”
是的，我在他新購買的黑白野馬警車追尾了阿爾，克拉維特。
簡短交談後，我們一起走到附近的公用電話（要記住，這是手機時代之前的日子）他打電話給糖廠找我媽媽。
“你好薇琪，我打電話告訴你，當我開車沿著主街行駛時，我剛剛被一隻大白鳥擊中。”
“是的，一隻大白鳥剛剛撞上了我的車，我需要你立即來到主街和内華達大道的交叉路口。”
我能想象我母親對 “大白鳥”這個綽號的困惑。但我應該讓你知道，這不是我第一次與克拉維特先生出現狀況，而他這樣稱呼我是有充分理由的。
對我來説，這並不是我想象中的勝利的閃耀時刻。那天放學后，我沒有加入群衆的行列，而是發現自己成了事故現場無數人目光的目標。在每一雙盯著我看的眼睛中，我看到了無數的情緒，從震驚到失望再到敬畏。它們中間沒有一個能抗拒我母親到了現場時對我的生氣。
第二天早上，在學校裏，迎接我的是一個新短暫的當之無愧的綽號：員警殺手。
NASCAR 名聲的夢想進一步黯淡，但尚未完全熄滅，那是後來發生的。