Driving Instructor Business Cards

I will never forget Mr. King. He was my driver's education teacher way back in high school. It was way back in the year 1985. I was 15 years old and looking forward to getting my driver's license. Of course I would have to drive with a permit until I was 16 years old and would have to have an adult with me at all times to make sure that I didn't drive off a cliff. Sure, 15 year old kids are stupid to say the least but did they really think that 6 months later I would be making rock solid decisions? Especially when it came to impressing my friends and young girls with my not so fancy but paid for Volkswagen bug?

It would prove to be a grueling semester with Mr. King. Driver's education was my first class of the day so naturally I was always a bit groggy and out of focus (I wasn't allowed to drink coffee yet). Some days were strictly classroom instruction but others (the one's that I really enjoyed) were spent behind one of the two wheels in a late model Chrysler. Remember when you were a kid and you got to drive the bumper cars? You really weren't in control of the car. Sure you could operate the gas pedal and turn the wheel a little bit, but that wide steel guide rail that ran along the middle of the track was really doing the steering. You were considered a good driver if you didn't hit the guide rail which literally took up the entire inner half of the lane. Well, driving with Mr. King was a lot like that. He had such a tight grip on the passenger's side wheel that it seemed I wasn't even driving the car at all. He was always correcting my turns. In fact he just didn't trust the judgment of any of his students. I had to remind him of my video game prowess. After all, I held the speed record on the "Pole Position" video game at our local arcade. "This is the real world here, not one of those ridiculous wastes of time you call a video game".

The Chrysler was always packed with students and whoever was at the wheel was always subject to the teasing and ridicule of the peanut gallery in the back seat. Someone would always shake your seat while you were trying your best to impress Mr. King. It was all in good fun though and besides it would be their turn in the hot seat soon enough.

I always admired Mr. King for his patience with the wild teenagers of Sherman Oaks year after year. When we all graduated his class, he presented all of us with one of his driving instructor business cards. He said he was state certified to teach people who had lost their licenses due to poor driving habits or accidents and suggested that we hang on to them. I heard a few years ago that he died early of stress.