One of the biggest mistakes the educational system has made over the last 30 or so years has been the removal of what was once required in every school in just about every state: driver's education. I'm sure that funding had a great deal to do with the choice and many felt that being able to manipulate a vehicle around town and on the local highways was not brain surgery and any idiot could drive well enough to get by, so why put stress on the board of education's already stretched-to-the-limit budget?
       That's pretty accurate and there seems to be plenty of idiots behind the wheel who must have bought their license from Western Auto, because they certainly would not have passed driver's ed.
       This sets up my clever segue from one thought to another.
       When I was about 13, my granddad said to me, "Johnny, how'd you like to learn to drive?" That's like asking a kid if he or she would like to take a month's vacation from school. "You can't tell your mother." It was a done deal.
       For the next month, I sat behind the wheel of an old two-door, clutch-driven, stick shift and could barely see over the dashboard. I just about ground the teeth off the gears, ran over a couple of chickens, missed several trees and scared some people strolling down the dirt roads of old back woods North Carolina, but I could drive passably and learned some naughty words from my grandfather. I was hoping he would share a plug of Redman® chewing tobacco with me, but he said I wasn't old enough to drive and spit.
       After a couple more weeks, he said, "Johnny, we're going someplace. You can drive and don't tell your mom."
       We took off down some roads I had never been on before and after a half hour of driving, we came to a clearing off to the right. Granddad told me to back up to a stump, turn off the motor, turn the mirrors down so I couldn't look to the rear, stare forward, shut my mouth and wait. After 15 minutes, granddad got out of the car, did something and then came back with a jar of the clearest, shiniest and sparklingest liquid I had ever seen.
       "Johnny, get in the passenger's seat, hold this jar and if anyone drives by, throw it out the window."
       "Why?"
       "Because I'll bust your rear-end if you don't."
       Granddad had a quaint way of expressing himself.
       When we got home, my granddad and my uncle sat at the kitchen table, put out a couple of radishes, opened the jar, and took a swig. They chased down the swig with a big bite of radish and said, "Smooth!"
       That summer, I learned how to drive and how to run moonshine with my grandfather. I never did learn how to chew tobacco and spit over the back porch or drink mountain hooch and eat a radish to kill the taste.
       I loved my grandfather.
       Growing up in the mountains with a lot of young guys like me was wonderful. We never got into any real trouble, but we fought now and then, waded the creeks for craw dads, never wore shoes except on Sundays, played sand lot baseball, stayed up late on Saturday nights and made some great memories.
       I feel sorry for a lot of young folks today who seem to have to grow up too quickly, are being taught by television shows that put reality aside for manufactured lifestyles that don't really exist and miss out on the fun kids can create and experience when there is plenty of time to be with mom and dad, grandparents and the guidance that comes from church and community.
       One of these days, my kids will take away my license because I'll be a hazard to myself and others. That'll be just fine as long as I am left with a mind full of memories.
       If you happen to see me in a rocking chair, smiling at nothing special and staring off into the distance, just wave.
       God will take care of the rest of the story.