“He’s off-road, driving down the ditch,” one of the Ohio State Highway Patrol troopers radioed to the rest of the officers. “We are not going to let him get back on the highway.”
“Can you advise on intentional contact to stop him?” another trooper asked.
“One car as gently as possible,” one answered.
“He was three foot tall,” she said. “He was a very short kid. I don’t see how he even looked over the steering wheel.” Though she had to admit, he was pretty skilled. “He was a good driver for being 10 years old,” she added.
Of course, I had already been driving a car for some time. When my parents were away, I drove their cars. I had my own set of keys, and I always refilled the tank to make sure the gas gauge didn’t give me away.I remember the first time I drove. I was 11. With fear and trembling hands, I started the car, backed it out of the garage, and drove it around the block and back into the garage. Then, I turned off the engine and sat very still, holding onto the wheel with both hands for a long time.
A scared kid got into the car when this adventure began. When the door opened next, a DRIVER got out – one who was driven to go on to whatever came next in the passages leading to autonomy.
I had passed over from one stage of life to another.
I had been a child very much in danger – now, I was a very dangerous child.
I knew a delinquent who went on an underage joy ride that ended when he hit a dog on the freeway in tacoma, going 90! Serious, dangerous business.
Ed BrownOctober 30, 2017, 11:12 PM
I learned to drive in the seat of a tractor. I was 6. But that’s another story.
This kid did pretty well, from the looks of it. Not praising him, just observing.
I used to take dad’s 47 Ford pickup up and down the driveway when he was at work, speed shifting that old flathead V8, 4 in the floor. The drive was only about 100 ft long. Knew better’n to take it out on the road, and had lots of places to drive anyhow, like plowing, disking, and cultivating. Which raises a question now that I’m into the story. What did dad drive to work if I was able to drive his pickup up and down the driveway? Hmmm. It’s hell to get old.
CurtisOctober 31, 2017, 1:36 AM
Lucky kid. If the Cleveland PD caught up to his car they would have shot it a couple of hundred times and finished him off by jumping on the hood and shooting him 24 times in the head because, “afraid for their lives.”
Larry GeigerOctober 31, 2017, 7:52 AM
I was talking to a friend the other day about how every kid I knew had a boat. Most kids had boats by 10 or 11 and they had boats with motors at 13 and 14 and up. We fished in the river, wandered, and explored. For the kids with big enough motors we skied. I can’t remember a single kid being seriously injured out on the water. We ran all over half the county in our boats and on our bicycles. Some kids need an outlet and if you don’t give them one they will invent one.
ghostsniperOctober 31, 2017, 11:49 AM
Right, down on Whiskey Creek, circa 1968 age 13, Boston Whaler, 14′, with a Mercury 9.8. whoa
Got a Honda 90 the next year, wiped it out bad doing wheelies, it didn’t recover but I did, moved onto a Honda 350 the following year then a 1959 Harley. Bought 2 1961 Triumph Heralds in 1969 for $35 each and made one good one out of both, sold it for $300 and bought a 1962 Corvair Spyder, with the turbo and blew it up 4 times over the next year. Learned a lot about mechanics laying on my back in the yard. Traded it in on a 1966 Mustang 289 hi-po the one with 300 hp. Nice. Wish I still had it. Got my learners permit at 14 and full time DL at 16, no drivers ed required. Fun used to be reasonably priced, for those willing to work for it. Nickel Reeses, dime Cokes, 29 cent gas, quarter packs of smokes, $1 Bud 6 packs….was it all a dream?
Cars? Any farm kid was driving a tractor by the age of 8. I had a different life. Two farms over the farmer was a WWII Army aviator, flew P-51’s. He did crop dusting and for helping him around his place He taught me to fly, at age 12. He had the Stearman N2S aka the Kaydet which was the WWII trainer for the Army. He taught me to fly not like they do in some commercial flight school.
One of the first things he taught me was that there are “Old pilots and bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots.” The second thing was keep your takeoffs and landings to an even number. Good advice.
I got my ticket at 16 an flew until the government took the fun out of it.
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
Gerard Van der Leun
1692 MANGROVE AVE
APT 379
Chico, Ca 95926
Green Pants Interior by Klahn
Who Am I? by Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.
Duty, Beauty, Liberty, Country, Honor, Family, Faith — Plus a few simple easy to follow rules for guys
Men saw the stars at the edge of the sea
They thought great thoughts about liberty
Poets wrote down words that did fit
Writers wrote books
Thinkers thought about it
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
Many’s the road I have walked upon
Many’s the hour between dusk and dawn
Many’s the time
Many’s the mile
I see it all now
Through the eyes of a child
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
And close your eyes
Leave it all for a while
Leave the world
And your worries behind
You will build on whatever is real
And wake up each day
To a new waking dream
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Change, change come over
Change come over
Talkin’ about a change
Change, change
Change come over, now
Change, change, change come over
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
I knew a delinquent who went on an underage joy ride that ended when he hit a dog on the freeway in tacoma, going 90! Serious, dangerous business.
I learned to drive in the seat of a tractor. I was 6. But that’s another story.
This kid did pretty well, from the looks of it. Not praising him, just observing.
I used to take dad’s 47 Ford pickup up and down the driveway when he was at work, speed shifting that old flathead V8, 4 in the floor. The drive was only about 100 ft long. Knew better’n to take it out on the road, and had lots of places to drive anyhow, like plowing, disking, and cultivating. Which raises a question now that I’m into the story. What did dad drive to work if I was able to drive his pickup up and down the driveway? Hmmm. It’s hell to get old.
Lucky kid. If the Cleveland PD caught up to his car they would have shot it a couple of hundred times and finished him off by jumping on the hood and shooting him 24 times in the head because, “afraid for their lives.”
I was talking to a friend the other day about how every kid I knew had a boat. Most kids had boats by 10 or 11 and they had boats with motors at 13 and 14 and up. We fished in the river, wandered, and explored. For the kids with big enough motors we skied. I can’t remember a single kid being seriously injured out on the water. We ran all over half the county in our boats and on our bicycles. Some kids need an outlet and if you don’t give them one they will invent one.
Right, down on Whiskey Creek, circa 1968 age 13, Boston Whaler, 14′, with a Mercury 9.8. whoa
Got a Honda 90 the next year, wiped it out bad doing wheelies, it didn’t recover but I did, moved onto a Honda 350 the following year then a 1959 Harley. Bought 2 1961 Triumph Heralds in 1969 for $35 each and made one good one out of both, sold it for $300 and bought a 1962 Corvair Spyder, with the turbo and blew it up 4 times over the next year. Learned a lot about mechanics laying on my back in the yard. Traded it in on a 1966 Mustang 289 hi-po the one with 300 hp. Nice. Wish I still had it. Got my learners permit at 14 and full time DL at 16, no drivers ed required. Fun used to be reasonably priced, for those willing to work for it. Nickel Reeses, dime Cokes, 29 cent gas, quarter packs of smokes, $1 Bud 6 packs….was it all a dream?
No ghost it wasn’t a dream.
Gerard, you have wonderful friends.
Thank you.
Cars? Any farm kid was driving a tractor by the age of 8. I had a different life. Two farms over the farmer was a WWII Army aviator, flew P-51’s. He did crop dusting and for helping him around his place He taught me to fly, at age 12. He had the Stearman N2S aka the Kaydet which was the WWII trainer for the Army. He taught me to fly not like they do in some commercial flight school.
One of the first things he taught me was that there are “Old pilots and bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots.” The second thing was keep your takeoffs and landings to an even number. Good advice.
I got my ticket at 16 an flew until the government took the fun out of it.