The Beauty & Simplicity of Freedom

One summer, at the ripe old age of 14, I left camp and spent the weekend with my family at the bungalow colony my dad and my uncle built in Highland Mills, N.Y.

Our bungalow colony was located in the New York mountains. These mountains boasted many bungalow colonies where hundreds of families who lived in one of the five boroughs of New York would go to escape the summer heat.

That was the summer I felt my first taste of freedom. My dad announced he was teaching me to drive. Needless to say, if at that moment I could have done cartwheels I would have.

I would be the very first of my friends to know how to drive. They would have to wait until the age of 18 just to get a driving permit. Yes, I was gloating.

In the city, during the summer, this was how we referred to anywhere but the mountains, my dad drove a silver four-door Chevy.

At the bungalows, he drove a two door, red 1945 stick shift Chevy pickup truck.

Dad drove the truck to the area to be used as my training ground. This particular space was chosen because it was well hidden from my mom, aunts, uncles, cousins, and any of our nosey neighbors living at the bungalows.

My outside self sat in the passenger seat appearing calm and excited. My inside self was high on anxiety.

Dad got out of the truck, walked around to the passenger’s side and had me switch to the driver’s seat. When we were both settled, he gave me the following instructions; He pointed to the vertical pedal and announced this is the gas. Then pointed to the horizontal pedal to the left of the gas pedal and announced this is the brake. This was followed by abbreviated instructions on the gear shift. After a few body-jolting starts and stops, off I went. I was in heaven!

The fact that the entire lesson was at the top of a hill didn’t seem to worry my dad. I was way too stupid, trusting, naïve and excited to realize this was not a good idea, indeed a very bad one. I needn’t have worried.

It was at this moment I experienced my first sense of freedom. I would experience many more firsts. However, this first was delicious.

I still love to drive and every time I do I experience that same sense of freedom. And in case you are wondering, no, my girls did not have their first driving lessons at the top of a hill.