The Fourth of July is upon those of us who wave Old Glory while eating some grilled chicken marinated in Ale-8-One, drinking some fine Kentucky bourbon (straight or as a mint julep), doing a burnout in our Corvettes, and setting off a bunch of firecrackers, sparklers and cherry bombs for our amusement.
Oh, and celebrating freedom from the British, too.
Today is a Louisville day for me; Georgetown can’t have all the fun, after all. Oh wait: They build Toyotas not named FR-S. Never mind.
My commonwealth is known for a few things: Bourbon. Baseball bats. Bourbon. Horses. Bourbon. College rivalries. Bourbon.
I did mention bourbon, right?
I learned to drive in a Chevy Caprice wagon similar to the one above back in my high school driver’s ed class (circa 1995). It was brown with red interior (don’t hold me to the interior colouring, though), had an instructor’s brake, and its twin was white. Every morning I drove, I would walk from my home about a mile to my old elementary school, waiting for my instructor to pull out of the nearby school district vehicle pool with the Caprice, allowing me to take the wheel to my high school’s parking lot for extra practice.
While I did well in the textbook portion of the course, I received Cs and Ds, managing a B- on the final day of driving. The instructor was worried about my limited skills behind the wheel, and rightfully so; Mom didn’t even own a car, and to this day has yet to obtain her license.
I did get my license, and held onto it until shortly after moving to Washington State, whereupon I foolishly gave up my license.
Recent Comments