“I’m a very good driver.” Raymond Babbit (Rain Man)
Maybe opposites do attract.
Once upon a time, I was a very fast walker. Anytime my wife and I went out for a walk or strolled through the mall, before long I’d realize I was by myself and have to stop and wait for her to catch up. Fast walking wasn’t her thing.
On family trips to Disney World, we put this skill to use by designating me the “Fetch the Fastpass” guy. Before Disney put Fast Pass tickets online, you had to physically work for them. We’d arrive at the parks when the gates opened and the fam would turn me loose to head off to the farthest ride offering a fast pass we wanted.
You aren’t supposed to run in the parks, but no one said anything about Greg Walking Speed. I’d secure our privileged passes and return to the group. A bonus to them, I would have burned off some energy and be a tad more likely to slow down as we made our way through the park.
You think I’d be a fast driver then, right? Well, you would be wrong. My wife and I are opposites there, too. As a matter of fact, as I type this post, she’s behind the wheel as we cruise up the interstate. We’re in the left lane, taking no prisoners. This has two benefits for me. First, her driving allows me more weekend writing time (see last week’s 168 post). Second, we arrive at our destination sooner. Win-Win.
Despite being a slow driver, I believe I’m a good driver. I attribute part of this good driving and slow driving to the School District of Greenville County, South Carolina. For those who don’t know it, I was a school bus driver as a junior and senior in high school. Hard to believe, but the state of South Carolina did indeed allow 16 and 17 year-olds to drive buses back in the day. Who else would work for $3.37/hour?
To become bus drivers, we attended three days of driving school where we had to pass written and driving tests before they allowed us behind the wheel. There’s the good driving influence. Once we passed the tests and started driving our routes, the buses had a device called a governor that limited them to a max speed of 35 mph. There’s the slow driving influence. You can see why my driving classmates hated to end up behind the bus on their way to school.
So, as predicted in my recent March Madness post, my daughter obtained her beginner’s permit last week. Guess it’s time to pass along some Greenville County school bus safety training. If I can figure out how to limit the car to 35 mph, we’ll be set. There has to be an app for that by now.
Thanks for reading.
PS. Bet you thought this would be a Sammy Hagar-related post. Don’t worry, there’s probably one in the future.