Published: March 07, 2008 06:29 pm            

Barron Mills: March 5, 2008

Wait just one minute please, those male readers among you. Let me make my point before you come with a noose to lynch me on the tallest pine here on Mountain Top. There are some exceptions, but by and large, the female drivers are much safer and considerate drivers than the males among us.

Certainly this is not 100 percent the case. There are some women who get in their automobile and drive like they have only two minutes to drive across town. And the number of female cross-country truck drivers increases each day.

My mother, born in 1901 prior to automobiles, never learned to drive until late in life and she never did like to get behind the wheel. Perhaps it was because her mother, Cora Luvenia Johnson Pickett, never learned to drive until after her husband, Nathaniel Macon Pickett, died. Grandpa Nat Pickett owned several automobiles agencies at the time he died of a heart attack as a relatively young man.

It was common knowledge in the little village of Madison, N.C., that Grandmother was a bad, bad driver and reportedly killed a cow one time when she wandered a bit off the road. But she did have a car in her driveway that didn't go out on the road unless it was a last resort or an emergency. She had many friends who took her to the grocery or to the Methodist Church, where she sang in the choir, or her circle meeting.

But people who saw Cora Pickett driving along the street immediately let her have the right-of-way. She had the reputation of always being in charge.

Since my wife is much younger than I, she is always agreeable to take the wheel when we have reason to take to the roads. In fact when I purchased our present automobile, I wisely put the title and ownership in Barbara's name. I am perfectly willing to park my carcass in the back seat if there are others who are in our entourage.

I don't expect Barbara to tend to the needs of our 2002 Malibu. I try to see that it has plenty of gasoline in the tank and gets regular care such as oil changes, and seeing that the license plate is up-to-date and the car is promptly inspected. ( I forgot to do it this year in a timely fashion, but it has now been taken car of).

We have three daughters and zero sons. But as far as I am aware all of our daughters are careful and considerate drivers and have good driving records. At least they all are still on the roads and I trust they all have valid driver licenses.

I can still remember the first time I got behind the wheel of a car. My father had left me in the car while he responded to call from one of his employees at the Belk Store where he was manager. Dad had forgotten to put the brakes on when he left me. The ignition was off, but he had parked on a hill and the car began rolling backwards down the street. I managed to slide over to get under the steering wheel. I didn't do a very good job of stopping the car. I suppose I should have put on the emergency brake, but I tried to maneuver the car to the curb. I missed the curb and hit a telephone pole. It stopped the car and the telephone pole was not damaged, but there was a dent in the rear of the car that had to be repaired.

The second time I got under the steering wheel was when the family was returning from Myrtle Beach one summer. I believe I was about 14 years old and didn't have a driver's license. My dad started out driving, but he gave up after about an hour. He had sunburned his feet and had blisters that made driving very, very uncomfortable.

He pulled over to the side of the road and told me to get under the wheel and my mother was ushered to the back seat to join my sister, Joan. This was a Saturday afternoon and we had to drive through a small South Carolina town which was about 98 percent black citizens. And they had all congregated in the middle of the narrow street.

I proved to be a skillful driver by maneuvering through the crowd. There was no loud clapping for my wonderful driving skills.

But my dad was most appreciative!



Barron Mills came to Asheboro in March 1955 when he bought The Randolph Guide and became its editor and publisher. He sold the paper in 1991 but still lives in Asheboro.

        

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