Four Wheels and a Hint of Danger

In the wee hours of the morning on July 4, 1896, Henry Ford smashed the brick side of his shed with an axe. That might sound a little extreme, but after months of work the inventor and future business superstar was finally ready to test drive a new creation he called the Quadricycle. The trouble was it didn’t fit through the door.

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If I saw this coming down the road I’d probably get out of the way. Ford’s Quadricycle. Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

With the exception of a brief breakdown due to a faulty spring, the rest of the test drive was more or less a success. Ford’s friend and assistant James Bishop rode ahead on his bicycle to warn carriages and pedestrians to get out of the way. Ford fired up his four-horse-powered gasoline engine and tootled along behind in a 500-pound frame with four bicycle tires, no breaks, little steering ability, and a “horn” made from a doorbell.

Thankfully, he improved on the design a little through the years.

Can’t you just picture that first test run? I can imagine the look on Henry Ford’s face as he raced through the streets of Detroit at a whopping twenty miles per hour. It must have been a mix of elation at the beginning of a dream coming true and the terror of barely controlling something powerful enough to kill you and everyone in your way. It’s probably the same expression I wore many years ago the first time I got behind the wheel of a car and it actually started moving.

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Our version of a crier on a bicycle. Trouble is you don’t see it until he’s already driven past.

My oldest son recently got to have that experience. He turned fifteen at the end of last year and in the state of Missouri that means he became eligible to test for his driving learner’s permit. Because his birthday falls so late in the year, we decided it would be wise to get the permit as soon as possible so he had a better chance of gaining plenty of experience on icy winter roads before the state considers granting him a real license at age sixteen.

But because we didn’t have anyone on a bicycle to warn everyone to get out of the way, we decided to start in a large, empty parking lot on a dry, sunny day.

I’m not sure what expression I wore when I handed him the keys that first time and took my place in the passenger seat. I’d like to think I conveyed calm reassurance. We took a little time for him to get familiar with dashboard controls, mirrors, break, and accelerator. Then he turned the key for that first time, put the car in gear, and took his foot off the brake.

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How I see my teenager when he sits behind the wheel. photo credit: Alex E. Proimos Learning to Drive via photopin (license)

As Henry Ford probably was more than a century ago and as surely every new driver has been since, my son was nervous and a little unsure, but also really excited to discover the sensation of wielding so much power.

That afternoon he drove us around and around the parking lot, practicing turning, breaking, and parking. Then I made him work on backing up, another thing Henry Ford’s original Quadricycle couldn’t do.

When we were both a little more comfortable, we took the lesson to a few quiet back roads. He even drove us home and parked in the garage without incident and with very little cringing or pretend break stomping from me.

My son is still a little uncertain behind the wheel. He’s got more to learn and will need a lot more practice to gain the confidence required to be a really good driver, but he’s attentive and teachable and determined. I’ve no doubt he’ll get there. I just hope he never feels the need to take an axe to the side of the garage.

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Coming soon!

And . . .These days, when I’m not teaching my son how to drive, I’m preparing to launch a new book, coming February 4th. Follow this link to get a peek!

School’s Out. Time for Dessert!

Finally, the last day of school is almost here. Originally students in our district would have been finished tomorrow afternoon, after a few fairly useless hours of turning in textbooks, cleaning out lockers, and signing yearbooks. They might also have watched a movie while teachers scrambled to input final grades.

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Worth the wait.

By shortly after noon, the streets of my town would have been overtaken by roving bands of celebrating adolescents, joining in the chorus of Alice Cooper’s School’s Out as it blares from the overtaxed speakers in the dented cars driven by their older and luckier classmates. And it would have taken upwards of an hour to get through the line at the local frozen custard stand.

Thanks to long forgotten snow days, all that joyful chaos will have to wait until next week, but my kids are ready. Their teachers are ready. And even this mama, facing a long summer of chronically bored children itching for a fight, is ready.

Because sometimes when you’ve been stuck for a long time having to meet high expectations, follow stuffy rules, and continually set aside the things you want to do for the things you have to do in order to demonstrate all that you can do, you find yourself exhausted and it’s nice to just cut loose for a little while.

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Kindred spirits Amelia Earhart and Eleanor Roosevelt, a little underdressed here for a spontaneous night flight to Baltimore. By Harris & Ewing – Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt found that to be true. Never exactly the conventional wife of a president, taking a far more active role in politics than did her predecessors, Mrs. Roosevelt spent much of her life fighting to break from the expectations placed on her by others and demonstrating through tireless effort all that she and, by extension, all women could be capable of. I’m sure it was an exhausting job. And I’m sure sometimes she just wanted to have a little fun.

During a formal White House dinner party she hosted on the evening of April 20, 1933, she seized an opportunity to do just that. In attendance was her relatively new friend Amelia Earhart, another woman accustomed to breaking through societal expectations. As the two talked that evening, they decided that rather than eating dessert, they’d very much like to take a night flight to Baltimore and back.

The two of them, attired in their fanciest duds, rallied the other dinner guests and the whole party made its way to Hoover Field where they borrowed a plane for their flight of fancy. Because really, who is going to tell evening gown-clad Amelia Earhart and Eleanor Roosevelt they can’t borrow an airplane?

The flight, covered in detail by the Baltimore Sun, was a success. All the dinner guests made it safely back to the ground, and yes, after the surprise adventure they did return to the White House for dessert. I imagine the atmosphere was looser and the conversation lighter.

I hope our summer break can be as rejuvenating and spontaneous. Maybe we’ll blast a little Alice Cooper and hop a flight to Baltimore wearing our fanciest duds. One thing I know for sure is that we will not be skipping dessert, even if it means waiting an hour in line at the local frozen custard stand.

On a related side note, this mostly once a week blog will become a mostly every other week blog for the summertime. As the pace of motherhood picks up for the season and as I work toward a novel polishing goal, I’m not sure I can maintain a weekly blog schedule. Also, this mama could do with a little summertime fun.

That Thing I Just Had

The other day, I stumbled across an article posted by Smithsonian Magazine about an Ancient Egyptian sock. This toddler-size, striped sock has been a part of the collection of the British Museum for more than a century, but recently it has resurfaced as an object of interest for researchers.

The sock was originally discovered in 1913 or 14 by Englishman John de Monins Johnson during an excavation in the ancient city of Antinopolis on the east bank of the Nile. Described in the article as a papyrologist, Johnson was most likely hoping to find examples of ancient writing that he could spend years poring over. He wasn’t looking for a sock.

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I also can’t stop wondering what happened to the other sock.

But if Johnson was a parent, I can imagine he wasn’t terribly surprised by the discovery. There’s no way I could count the number of times I’ve been looking for that thing I just had* and found instead a kid’s carelessly discarded sock(s).

I have great kids. I really do. My boys are now eleven and thirteen and they both work hard at school, and are kind and generous and respectful. At this point in their young lives they can claim quite a few life skills, too. They are capable of doing laundry, preparing a few recipes, or mowing the lawn.

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These are not my keys.

But they are both guilty of constantly kicking off their socks and leaving them for their exasperated mother to find. Their stinky socks are crammed in between the couch cushions, left under the kitchen table, wedged under mattresses, and crumpled on the floorboard of the car. Occasionally I even find them in the back yard. It’s enough to drive any mama completely mad.

Please don’t tell me if I’m wrong, but I suspect this source of aggravation is universal. The Egyptian mama whose little kiddo lost her stripy toe sock (that was probably worn with sandals, which presumably also got lost), was surely exasperated that for the three hundred and eighty-third time that day, little Ahhotep had kicked off her booty.

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When your toes are this cute, socks are optional. photo credit: light2shine Feets via photopin (license)

Of course, no parent wants to leave a trail of socks wherever they go, but when kids are little, it’s also kind of cute to see them wiggle and struggle until those adorable chubby toes are exposed for all the world to enjoy. When they’re tween/teenagers, it’s less cute.

So when I read what should really be a fascinating article about researchers using a noninvasive scanning technique to learn about the types of dyes used in the manufacturing of Ancient Egyptian clothing, all I could think about was that stupid lone sock, stuffed into the couch cushions at the British Museum for the last hundred years.

It’s possible I lost the point. I’m pretty sure I just had it and then set it down somewhere. I’ll have another look at the article and see if I can pick it up again. But I’ll probably just find that same cast-aside sock.
*This could be (but is certainly not limited to): keys, book, purse, pen, phone, remote control, scissors, shoe, grocery list, my marbles