Among the many milestones I reached in Iraq is one I have celebrated for more than a quarter century--my driver's license anniversary. On December 19, 1969, after a one-semester delay while my grades got better, I went to the Registry of Motor Vehicles office in Woburn, Mass., and there took and passed my driver's test.
I had already bought and sold my first car--a Black 1963 Dodge Dart and so did not have a car on that wonderful day. But my Dad let me drive his car--a 22-foot-long 1965 Chrysler New Yorker. I was in Heaven. I had wanted to drive as long as I could remember and the day finally came. With my license my obsession with cars moved from wanting cars to owning cars.
In three weeks I had a 1964 Opel Station wagon. A month later it was a 1963 Chrysler Newport. Back then I thought I liked working on cars, but really, all I wanted to do was drive. I wore cars out. I broke them. I am the same with bicycles, although with bikes I know I do not want to work on them. I just want to ride.
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That was a very special day - and I remember many of the cars. My first car was a '57 Rambler, Navy Blue. The car cost $100, and the insurance for the car was also $100. I paid for it with my Burger King money. I started saving the day I got my permit. Yeah, driving rules!
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