I don’t remember learning to drive. I think I was about six years old when I learned to drive my granddad’s new Minneapolis and Moline (M&M) tractor. I drove the tractor and pulled the hay wagon while my dad and granddad tossed the hay on the wagon in the Oklahoma hay field. I just gradually drove first one piece of equipment, then another. I don’t remember taking a driver’s test or getting a driver’s license. I just seemed to have license one day.
My wife, Bess, didn’t learn to drive until after we were married. I put her behind the wheel of our big 1949 Cadillac convertible (with a 4-inch boat cushion so that she could see out) in the Arkansas River bottoms. I told her to follow me (I was driving the drill). That’s the best way to teach a woman to drive. And oh, by the way, Bess’ driver’s license was restricted to a 4-inch cushion for many years.