Drivers Ed

I've never taken well to the operation of an automobile. When I took a class in driver's ed at my high school in Salt Lake City my instruction was supervised by a failed basketball coach. One of my early attempts behind the wheel placed me, that coach, and a car full of students on a monument dedicated to the Mormon pioneers.

That mishap was hard to live down, and I would gladly have conducted the rest of my life in way that never reminded anyone of that event. However, I needed a signed note of "driving competence" if I were to receive my license without a six month delay. When I showed the chutzpa to ask for that note the coach reminded me of how thoroughly I had humiliated him, my fellow students, and most of all those, “Poor Mormon pioneers.”

I apologized for my affront to everyone, including the Mormon pioneers, and offered in my defense a perfect score on every written test. He looked at me and then offered this deathless advice, “Son, it’s time you realized that driver's ed isn’t entirely an intellectual exercise.”