My dad and mom were both high-strung people, so it stands to reason that they would at times fight.  One of the most common subjects for their arguments was whether to get a car.

At that time we were a family of nine, six young children and their parents, and a Korean housekeeper, Mrs. Won.  Early in his years in America my dad had seen a movie called The Fighting Sullivans (1944) in which five Irish-American brothers are killed in an explosion during World War II, and concluded that members of a family should travel separately to avoid a similar fate.

Although this theory ruled out having a car, it did not rule out cramming the entire family into one taxicab, which my dad would do during our trips to the West Haven beach.  It usually took some doing to convince the cab driver to take all nine of us, especially after the state of Connecticut passed legislation banning more than four passengers to a cab.  In these circumstances the driver would usually summon a second cab, and my dad would get into a riproaring argument with both drivers.  Somehow we always made it to the beach, but not before our sense of summer freedom had been completely destroyed by these events.

The second argument against having a car was a simple one: neither of my parents drove.  One would have thought that this fact would have ruled out the possibility entirely, until one of Mom’s co-workers accepted a year-long assignment to be a missionary in Zimbabwe.  Bob owned a tan Chevy II sedan which he needed watched over and driven by someone, and was willing to lend it for the year for free.  This was too good a bargain to pass up for even my dad, and within a very short time he and my mom had both taken driving lessons (I don’t know any of the details) and were ready to drive Bob’s car.  The only obstacle now was that the Chevy had a stick shift, and their lessons had not included use of a clutch.  According to my mom, the first few voyages were very difficult for Dad, Mom, and the car.  However, they both mastered the clutch (amazingly by trial and error) and the car became a solid part of our family.  According to my mom, after the year was up and Bob returned for his car, my father went out that day and bought a new used car.

Anyway, having a car made it possible for all of us to pile in and go to West Haven as a family.  This strategy did have its disadvantages.  For example, I remember a few years later, when we had a station wagon, a trip to the beach which was so relaxing that my parents and my sister Carolyn decided to go to a drive-in movie.  The three of them were comfortably ensconced in the front seat for the movie, about which I remember nothing because I was one of the three unfortunates who were in the back-back.  Not only could we see nothing, but as the salt water dried on our bathing suits, and under them, our rear ends became incredibly itchy, making the experience even more of a torture.

Neither of my parents ever looked comfortable driving.  My dad always used a homemade blue plaid back pillow wedged behind his lumbar region, and drove sitting bolt upright with both hands tightly grasping the wheel.  For twenty years he commuted forty-five minutes each way to Central Connecticut State College in New Britain, so he racked up many highway miles.  His driving strategy was simple: “Guys, just stay in middle lane!”  After my own twenty-seven years of commuting on the highway , I have settled into this driving style as well.  It’s more relaxing, and protects you from the state cops as well.