Editor’s note: As part of Xpress’ annual Kids Issue series we invited readers to submit past stories from their childhood in WNC. This is one of several entries.
by Emily K. Thomas
In 1966, I was the oldest of five children and therefore the first to get a driver’s license. Our mother was ready for a driver. Our dad bought me a 1959 two-door white Rambler American.
So, at Mom’s request, immediately I began chauffeuring siblings all around Buncombe County.
The first job was school deliveries. We lived in Beaverdam, so the first drop-off was for a little sister at Ira B. Jones Elementary School on Kimberly Avenue. Story has it that if traffic was backed up at drop-off, our brother, who always got the front seat, would open the door, pull up the seat and tell our sister to jump.
The next stop was David Millard Junior High, which was on Charlotte Street. That building is no longer standing, but this drop-off also frequently called for quick exits by my brother and another sister.
Then, with just me in the car, I had to face the dreaded hill on Valley Street. The many hills of Asheville were a constant cause of driving fear. The Rambler had the gear shift on the steering wheel column and no modern-day roll control. When the clutch was engaged, the car would roll backward. It was therefore a constant balancing act between the clutch and the gas!
My final school delivery was for myself at Lee Edwards High School, now called Asheville High. The parking lot in the back was my literal straight-up nemesis. Getting up that hill without rolling into the car behind me was so stressful that I would sit in the parking lot after school until all other cars were gone. In future years, that proved a frustration for siblings who then rode with me there too.
Our mother nicknamed the car White Lightning. Looking back, White Lightning left us with a lot of good memories.
We are the same age! I was the youngest so didn’t have to drive siblings anywhere but the family car that I drove on the days that I worked at the local drug store after school, was a huge tank of a car; a 1959 Mercury 4-Door. I used to hang out with my older cousin, who always had nice, fast cars (and of course, 4 on the floor) and she would try to teach me to drive a manual transmission. My biggest fear was to have to stop at the red light in the middle of town. I never conquered the clutch until I was well into adulthood and I still don’t like to drive my husband’s trucks. Fortunately, I grew up in Georgia, so I didn’t have to deal with the mountains around here when I was a teenager. I enjoyed your story.