Texas State Historical Association - My Texas

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Getting a Driver's License

I don't remember when the State of Texas began requiring a person to have a license to drive, but I believe it was some time in the l920s or 1930s. I say this because when I was born in 1925, I don't believe that was a necessary item. After all, there were not that many cars on the roads. For that matter, there were not very many roads on which one could drive a car.

I know that when we lived in Pennsylvania, we had a car. On trips back to Texas, Dad and Mother took turns driving. Motoring cabins (forerunners to motels) were available for travelers. Mom and Dad prepared the back seat for a bed for my sister, Gwen, and me to take naps on.

Once, when Mom drove us back to Texas by herself, we had a flat. While it was being repaired, we walked next door to a restaurant. Mom was wearing a Masonic ring, and a kindly old gentleman came over to introduce himself. Asking if she needed any help, he said he was a thirty-second degree Mason, and had noticed her ring. Staying with us through our meal, he insisted on paying for it, then helped Mother get us settled in the car. When Mother told Grandpap, he was so pleased. He had been a thirty-second degree Mason for many years, too, and had held high offices in that organization. He said that was worth everything he had ever put into the Masons. When we moved back to Texas, we didn't have a car of our own. Mother didn't want to drive Grandpa Coney's car, so she just quit driving.

When I married at sixteen, I had never learned to drive. Once L. C. had trouble with our tractor and had to leave it in the field and walk home. We lived next door to his Dad. L. C. got his Dad's pick-up, drove to Cooper to get parts, then went back to repair the tractor. His Dad was busy in his store, so he told me to go with L. C. and drive the pick-up back. I said, "I don't know how to drive." He said, "Well, it's time you learned." L. C. drove to the tractor, showed me how to shift the gears, where the foot-feed and brake were, and sent me home. I put the car in neutral, stepped on the clutch, moved the gears to the "drive" position, released the clutch and the brake--and the car jumped and died. I went through the same procedure three or four times, until L. C. could stop his laughing, then he came over and said, "Don't release the clutch all at once, do it slowly." I did, and finally got the car going. I drove it through the field on the way back. My heart was pounding, and I kept hoping that I'd remember where the brake was. I did, but when I hit it, I almost threw myself through the windshield. Since I had not stepped on the clutch, the engine died. I just left it, thankful that I was still alive.

Some time later I applied for a driver's license. I had picked up a manual from the office in Commerce and studied it until I knew it forward and backward. When the fated day came, I approached the office with my heart pounding, scared that I'd "goof up." But I didn't. I passed the written test, then when the officer called my name, I went to my car with him. He asked if I was O.K. I said, "Yes, I'm just nervous." He assured me that most people were, but there was really nothing to it. Just pay attention to the instructions he would give me. I did. We drove through his obstacle course, and when I couldn't do the parallel parking, I just KNEW I had failed, but he said I passed! He gave me a few pointers to help with a couple of areas, and congratulated me. Whew!

Dad bought a Farmall tractor the year after I married, and taught my sister to drive it. Later, he let her drive the car when he was with her, and let her drive often, so she had some instruction. Their mailbox was about a mile from the house, and Gwen and our brother Don drove to get the mail regularly. The mailbox was on a corner with a bridge on one side. There was a big chug hole right by it. Gwen got the mail and started backing up to turn around. She asked Don to stick his head out of the window and tell her if she was going to miss it. As she was backing up, she would ask, "Am I going to miss it?" and Don would say, "Yes." Then the back wheel fell off the bridge, and the car almost turned over. She said, "Don, I thought you said I was going to miss it" (meaning the chug hole), and Don said, "Yes, and you did" (meaning the bridge). She took her driving test the year she was sixteen, and just could not get the parallel parking right. The instructor told her that it was not really that important, and since it was beginning to rain a little to just go back to the station and park. When they got to the station, all of the parking spaces were taken, except one. The officer said, "Pull in right here," just as they got even with it, so Gwen did. She was a little closer than he had thought, and he slammed both feet on the floorboard, saying, "Good gosh, that's MY car!" But she missed it. He signed her driver's license anyway. Her husband said that the officer didn't want to have to go through another driving test with her.

Lowell McCormack
Gainesville, Texas
Published: November 14, 2005