One late spring day in
1976, my father called to ask if he could drop by my apartment for a visit. As
it turned out, his sad intent was to allow me to say goodbye to a cherished
family member—a red 1972 Volkswagen van, dubbed “The Thing.” Daddy had
originally purchased The Thing new as a work car, but even so, the frequent repairs
which the vehicle demanded forced Daddy to decide to trade it in for a more
reliable vehicle.
On 27 December 1971, my parents and my two younger siblings piled into The Thing and headed to the Louisiana DMV. On this grand occasion of my fifteenth birthday, the family headed out bright and early for me to apply for my driver’s license. In spite of the examiner’s initial skepticism, I passed my driver’s test in that van and proudly drove the family home.
The van was fun to drive, although it was not the safest
vehicle. Their light weight and boxy construction rendered VW vans prone to
roll-overs, but I never rolled The Thing, nor tried to! With the engine located
in the back, the driver’s seat perched at the very front of the vehicle,
affording a precipitous view of the road. I would freak out my friends by
turning 360 degrees in intersections, an impossible feat in a sedan but easily
doable in that machine of oppositions.
My brother’s favorite memory of The Thing occurred on a
family trip. We were stopped on a hill at a red light. Once the light turned
green, I struggled to orchestrate the clutch and gas only to keep stalling out
the engine. Daddy kept yanking up on the emergency brake. I don’t remember how
many tries it took for me to get the van rolling forward, but my brother still
giggles at that story.
My favorite Thing story involves driving a group of kids
from my church across Baton Rouge to a memorial service at a cemetery on the
outskirts of town. Most of the drive was down Airline Highway, a major,
four-lane road. On the way home, I got into an impromptu, informal drag race
with an unknown driver in a Camaro. Even as an inexperienced driver, I had a
knack for reading the traffic, looking ahead and changing lanes instead of
sticking in one lane until I reached my destination. This driving strategy,
performed by a teen-aged girl driving a VW van full of teenagers, angered the
guy driving the muscle car when he realized what had just passed him.
Ultimately, my skillful playing of traffic got us to our intersection to turn
off of Airline Highway ahead of the guy in the Camaro. He followed us aggressively
through the neighborhood, but when he saw us pull into the church parking lot,
he cut a donut and sped away.
I had many other driving adventures in that van. In 1972,
Governor-elect Edwin Edwards declared a school holiday for his inauguration. My
best friend Charlene and I loaded our bicycles into The Thing and headed across
the Mississippi River to Port Allen for an adventure. My mother gave birth on
17 June 1972 to my baby sister. As the family errand girl, I had more freedom
to gad about than I would have had under different circumstances. While I
frequently drove around friends and groups from church, I never had a wreck or
got a ticket.
My father appreciated my bond with The Thing and thoughtfully
allowed me to take that last drive and say my farewells. My own life had
changed drastically since Daddy bought that vehicle. In January, 1976, I gave
birth to my daughter, becoming a young mother much too soon. At that point in
my life, I was not only saying goodbye to fond memories of youthful driving
experiences, but saying goodbye to my carefree youth, as well.
