Three's a Crowd

I do not know if my Dad was looking forward to it or dreading it.  He was about to  teach his twin teenage boys to drive.  Our training vehicle was the family car -  a 1959 Austin Cambridge A55 with a standard shift, a four cylinder motor, no power steering and no power brakes.  We already had learning permits having passed the written examination required by the Alberta government.  Now our destination was the parking lot of the Westmount Shopping Center in West Edmonton which was totally deserted on a Sunday afternoon.

That first lesson we were to learn three basic skills: how to shift gears, how to let out the clutch, and how to apply the brakes.  It looks easy when somebody else is driving but it is not so easy when you are fresh behind the wheel.  The idea is to engage the gears without grinding them.  Shifting into 1st gear and then letting out the clutch to set the car in motion was the next challenge.  Not done properly the car jumps like a jack-rabbit.   Grinding gears damages them and riding the clutch burns it out.  "Don't grind me a pound," or "Stop riding the clutch" were expressions we heard often those first few lessons.  You quickly learn not to slam on the brakes or you could find yourself going through the windshield.  After a few shaky starts, we were both driving the car around the vacant parking lot.

My brother turned out to be a backseat driver since we were both in the car as each lesson progressed.  He was mechanically inclined so learning to drive was easier for him than me since I am  not mechanically inclined.  He was also of the opinion that his driving skills were superior to mine.  It got so bad that when it came to learning to parallel park, I refused to let him be in the car with me.  I have often wondered how we managed to not hate each other during that time.  Three is a crowd specially when you are learning to drive.  Our Dad's response to all the stress of teaching us to drive was to mutter under his breath.  When we got home, he would quickly exit the car and head for the house.

We progressed from the parking lot to driving down side streets until we were able to drive in serious traffic.  I do not remember how many months it was before we went for the driver's test in order to obtain that much desired prize - an official Driver's Licence.  The licensing bureau was in a hilly area of Edmonton near the Alberta Legislature.  I was terrified that the examiner would ask me to parallel park on an incline but he chose level ground.  I did not pass that first test.  I did what he called, "a running stop" at one stop sign.  On my second attempt I passed with flying colors.  My brother made three attempts before he got his licence.  That's what you get for being a backseat driver with superior driving skills.

                                                                              

1959 Austin Cambridge A55

(ours was a cream color)

An Unfogettable Train Ride

The melancholy sound emanating from the whistle of a steam train rushing through the night always fascinated me.  As a child, I recall going to the Canadian National Railway Station in Edmonton to watch my Grandma board an old C.N. steamer bound for Vancouver.  The steam and smoke rising from the engine swirled around the platform and the air smelt of burning coal.  We were allowed to board the train to help Grandma settle in.  As the train chugged out of the station and into the night, I wished that I could have been a passenger too.

My wish to ride a train pulled by a steam locomotive came about in my adult years while I was serving in South Africa as a missionary and lived in Louis Trichardt in the Northern Transvaal province.  It was necessary for me to travel to Pretoria to pick up my renewed Passport and make tentative reservations with Sabena Belgian Airlines for my soon return trip to Canada.  I decided I would take the train.  It would be an overnight run to Pretoria with the next day allowing plenty of time to do my business and then return the same evening.  The train was on, what we use to call in Canada, 'a milk run' meaning it stopped at most of the towns between Louis Trichardt and Pretoria.  This particular train was in no  way comparable to South Africa's famous 'Blue Train' but the ticket agent did suggest a first class ticket which put me in a compartment with berths so I would not have to sit up all night,  Sharing my compartment was a person I had met previously and so we talked, read, and enjoyed the passing scenery before the porter came to make up the two lower berths.  The train lacked a dining car so you could not enjoy a meal or get a nice hot cup of tea which is so much part of South African hospitality.  Sleeping on the train was uneventful except for my waking up at every stop to see where we were.  By this time,  the smell of the burning coal from the engine had permeated the entire train. and I thought the train needed a better ventilation system.  The train pulled into Pretoria just as the sun was rising.  In the station, there was a kiosk where you could buy breakfast and a restroom where you could have a shower and change clothing.

That evening, when I arrived at the station having completed my business, I noticed there were  fully equipped soldiers milling around the station and I wondered why.  I learned that they were on their way to postings up north along the boarders that South Africa shares with Namibia, Zimbabwe and Mozambique.  Terrorism was a constant threat in South Africa and they were always on guard.  This deployment was a few months after the incident at Entebbe Airport in Uganda when Israeli soldiers swooped  in totally unexpected  to rescue the passengers from a hijacked airliner.  The soldiers occupied a day coach but when night fell. they were allowed to occupy any empty berths on the train.  My compartment was suddenly filled with three fully armed soldiers who, without a word of explanation, bunked down for the night.  When I left the train at Louis Trichardt the next morning, they were still asleep but I felt that terrorists  would not have a chance against that crew.

SAR Locomotive

credit:  bing.com images