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Even after taking Driver’s Ed and passing that dreaded road test, there are so many things new drivers need to learn about the practical aspects of driving that will only come from experience. Handing over the keys is a traumatic rite of passage for parents, and they will sleep better knowing that The Driving Book is in their teens’ glove compartments. When I was a teenager, school districts still had enough money to offer driver’s ed as an after school or summer course. I was inexperienced and nervous the first few times that our Driver’s Ed class went out on the road, but I was picking it up. The problem was that the driver’s ed teacher was a truly stupid and alcoholic phys ed teacher who got off on flunking a smart kid. So in the summer between my sophomore and junior years, when I was old enough to sign up for driver’s ed and found out Mr.
We had a spare car so the SS in name only 1966 Impala SS was mine for a few months till I left to spend the summer at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.
Ronnie Schreiber edits Cars In Depth, a realistic perspective on cars & car culture and the original 3D car site.
However Ronnie, this article needs a fair amount of error editing and correction, for the record.
The tester cut the road test short and signed off on the license, probably figuring he’d be better off if my luck ran out without him in the passenger seat. Thinking back, most of our PE instructors were fairly harmless and I was lucky enough to go two years with the one that was actually good. He was a genuinely nice guy and, although I’m still fairly hopeless in most sports, I actually learned quite a few things the two years I was in his PE classes. No problem with driver’s ed, but I did flunk my first driving test, because I ran a stop sign. Did something very similar on my drive test, didn’t stop at the stop line that was marked out in the parking lot.
My older brother, my younger sister and I all went to Berkley HS for our secondary educations. Berkley wasn’t the first time that Helene Politzer was my teacher, she taught me junior high science for three years at Hillel. There were some crappy teachers at Berkley but I’d say that there were many more outstanding ones.
It kind of bugged me that other high schools in the area got elite reputations but Berkley was considered a lesser place because of the more middle and working class socio-economics of Berkley itself, but there were a bunch of great teachers there and a solid core of very smart students. Yeah, that pretty much describes the jock-douchebag-football-coach-turned-resentful-gym-teacher at my high school. He knew every seedy hot dog joint and biker bar in town and would take us on truly epic, day-long road trips about the region during the summer classes he taught.


Hell, one time he made one of my classmates drive him over to a titty bar and wait in the parking lot for half an hour while he got a lap dance. After I passed the written test, I went out to our car, buckled myself into the driver’s seat and waited for the trooper who was administering the test to begin. My dad is a Vietnam Veteran, a former Marine and an intellectual with a great passion for American History.
What I got to watch over the next five minutes was my dad chew this Pennsylvania State Trooper’s ass for what he not-so-delicately described as entrapment. He’s done it to me a precious few times in my life, and the effect is terrifying, mostly because he believes that a raised voice is a indicator of failed communication.
My dad taught me that as long as you don’t swear and display an above-average command of the language, you can pretty much say anything to anyone. Enabling JavaScript in your browser will allow you to experience all the features of our site.
Covering virtually every scenario a new driver may face, from changing a tire to negotiating privileges with parents to handling a car in bad weather, Karen Gravelle helps teen drivers navigate through tricky new territory-on the road and at home. Car companies and dealers had enough money to donate mid-size sedans to those same school districts. X was the instructor, I knew it wasn’t going to be fun, but I had no idea just how much some teachers resent smart kids.
As early as the 1950s there were mechanical driving simulators that were synchronized with film strips but our school district didn’t use them We had classroom work with books, film strips and tests, along with practical driving instruction and practice on the road.
All my friends had their licenses, a couple had their own cars, and I was stuck bumming rides, having my dad drive me, or worse, getting there late because my mom has never been on time in her life. By the time we got to Brooklyn I think the only time that my hair has been dirtier has been when I’ve had to wash oil or transmission fluid out of it.
I got a learner’s permit by taking a test at the RMV, and upgraded to a license a month later after a seven minute road test in which I expertly (luckily) avoided being involved in an accident with two near-misses that could have broadsided the passenger side of the car.
He was still pretty useless (in both classrooms) but at least he didn’t have the long knives out for the smarter kids.
He’d figured out that not every kid had the aptitude to play basketball (no matter how tall they were) and worked on development and, sometimes, having fun. My parents and most Eastsiders their age talk about Driver’s Ed at Denby High School. We moved to the north part of Oak Park in early 1966, after she started high school so my parents paid tuition to the DPS so she didn’t have to finish at a different school. It’s not much of an exaggeration to say that most of what I know about science is because of her. We benefited from pre-feminist American education, when the smartest women went into education. Socio-economically it was also a bit more diverse than nearby schools like Oak Park and Southfield-Lathrup, maybe even ethnically too, since when I was in HS, those two schools were overwhelmingly Jewish.
Lee Ermey drill-instructor impression, but with absolutely no profanity, slang, sexual references or poor grammar. That cop must’ve really pissed him off, because he ended up talking to some regional State Police commander about it. A high school and college athlete who wasn’t smart enough to coach or do anything beyond grunt work in the real world, so he got his degree in physical education and a job at the local high school.
When I got back to the States to go to the University of Michigan that fall the Chevy had been junked. If the 3D thing freaks you out, don’t worry, all the photo and video players in use at the site have mono options. He also did a pre-Driver’s Ed segment in PE and had some funny stories for us about his own experiences.


They may have been denied career opportunities in other professions (or they may have wanted jobs that dovetailed with family life), but we benefited from the fact that they became teachers.
Berkley had a nice mix of middle and upper middle class kids from north Oak Park, affluent kids from Huntington Woods, and middle class and working class kids from Berkley. This time around I had another one of the school’s lesser teachers, but he was more interested in actually teaching us how to drive than acting like a bully.
She’s still alive and lives in the same building at Hechtman II where my mom now lives. The next time I took it, I passed, then passed my road test, got my license and never had a problem on the road.
Of course exposing a new generation of drivers to you product line was part of the motivation as well. I was playing in the car in the driveway, pulled it out of gear and managed to turn it right into a parked car as gravity took over and I couldn’t reach the brakes. Not qualified to really teach any serious academic subjects, not smart enough to teach shop, he supplemented his income like some of the other duller teachers by teaching typing and driver’s ed. I discovered that with each additional 98, 99, or 100% score that I got on the classroom work, Mr.
I passed the course, got my learner’s permit, then passed the road test given by the infamous Great White Whale.
We managed to limp home and instead took my older brother’s first car, a convertible Buick Special. Fine for around A Squared and just powerful enough to take back roads back to Detroit now and then. So the first car that I drove was a 1970 Dodge Coronet, blue if I recall correctly, just like the four door pictured in the sales brochure below.
If you were a varsity athlete, you got an A (and get to run around the locker room rubbing your junk on the non-jocks while the phys ed teacher laughed).
X got more and more critical when I was behind the wheel, while giving me less and less wheel time, far less than any of the other students.
Adelman, who taught me calculus was a great teacher and I forget right now who my physics teacher was, but she was pretty sharp too.
She was reputed to not pass a lot of new drivers but in fact nobody that I knew whom she tested didn’t get their license.
By then big brother had already dealt with iron-oxide alloy on a Lotus Cortina and a Mini Cooper, and I didn’t want something that would disintegrate. He understood the topic well enough to teach it at a high school level but I relished the idea that I earned my A and didn’t pay for it with a fifth of booze like some of my classmates. While I was in high school, all the valedictorians were girls because all the smart boys got downgraded in PE.
They both were truly wonderful and consider myself very fortunate to have had both of them for teachers.
Since it was a ragtop, dad just drove the 600 miles to NYC with the top down, sun permitting. After years of driving though Canada and then down the NY Thruway on our way to visit his relatives in and around NYC, my dad loved how much time the new Interstate 80 took off the trip.



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