Learning to Drive: Changing a Wheel

It took many people to teach me to drive. Too many cooks spoil the broth is the old adage and I believe the proof of that pudding, if you’ll excuse the mixed metaphors, is in my own experience. Today, I’m just going to tell you about the lesson I had from my dad.

My father, in response to my repeated requests for driving lessons, insisted that he teach me how to change a wheel. I was sure this was because he wanted to avoid being in the car with me when I was in control of the vehicle, especially as I was suggesting he teach me in his car; his cover story was that basic car maintenance is the first skill necessary to learn to drive. His teaching method involved him calling out the names of various tools that could be possibly required to change a wheel and having me go to fetch them out of the shed. It was like a fill-in-the-gaps test on a topic you hadn’t studied for – the harder type where you’re not shown the words you have to find. How was I to know what a Jack looked like?

What followed was like a game of fetch. He didn’t make too good a job of teaching Mickey Dee or the other dogs this game, so I don’t know what made him so hopeful with me. The game went something like this: he’d call out the name of a tool needed to change the wheel and I would have to look in the car boot, the work bench in the shed and his toolbox, and bring back the object requested. Every tool I’d bring out would be thrown down on the ground beside him with a humph. I would then think I’d been successful. I can understand why he confused the dogs – his signals weren’t the clearest. First off, his projection wasn’t good. Mutters turned to growls, though to be fair to him, he did get a bit louder as the mound grew. Unfortunately, as it grew higher again, he seemed to lose his voice altogether and started waving his hands in the air. Perhaps he had given up thinking I could ever change a wheel and was teaching me how to stop on-coming traffic for help if I got a flat. Still, there was a no, no, no when I went to take the driver’s seat. He kept repeating how could I ever be trusted behind the wheel of a car when I didn’t know a spanner from a jack. He went into the garage himself and started looking for the necessary equipment. He asked me to come in and have a look at the state I’d made of the place. I excused myself and told him I’d a fair idea of the lay of the land. From the exclamation that followed it became obvious that he once more wanted me to enjoy the scenic view that was his workbench.

When the going gets tough call mother – that’s the motto in our house. I cracked first and called her onto the scene. Dad greeted her with, ‘What were you doing with my Jack?’ My mother doesn’t drive and wouldn’t normally have reason to be hoisting heavy objects. Daddy glared at me, then her, ‘One of ye moved it’ - so began the hunt for the Jack. ‘It should be in the boot of the car,’ Daddy said, ‘and I wouldn’t take it out of there, so one of ye did.’ This led my mother to once more have a root around the boot. Almost immediately she found it. Though a moment earlier it's not being there was proof one of us took it, now it’s presence in the boot seemed equally proof we had, ‘Don’t go at it again,’ Dad said. At this point, the spanner had also been found, and I knelt with Daddy beside the car.

He told me to start changing the wheel. Daddy believes in active learning – there is no spoon feeding around here. I went to position the long sought-for Jack under the car. ‘No, no, no,’ he cried. ‘The nuts, the nuts! Would you not use your head? Would it not be easier to loosen those nuts when the pressure is on the wheel, otherwise it’ll be spinning on you.’ I could see the wisdom of his words – I just don’t know why all the wise men have to speak in parables and riddles instead of just spitting out what they mean (though to be fair to Dad, there was no lack of flying spittle). The bolts were loosened, the Jack inserted, the car lifted, the wheel removed, and another put on. Eventually, the wheel was changed. I was exhausted. It had been hard work. Lesson was definitely over for the day.

Daddy went back to watch television. From his hum of contentment, I could tell he was happy in the knowledge that his motor was safe, and fairly hopeful, I'm sure, that I'd seen enough of Jacks and spanners not to be asking for another lesson for a while.
       They say never learn to drive from a relative - another saying that proved wise. What I needed was help from someone outside the family. But that's my next post!