Learning to drive

At the ripe old age of 21, the Resident Grandson has finally decided to get a driver's licence. He already knew the basics - he used to have a "paddock bomb". What he needs is on-road experience. Although at 21, he doesn't have to prove he's done 120 hours of supervised driving, it's still a great idea, and we take every opportunity. Most days, I've been meeeting him after work, and we get in half an hour or so, mainly just around the town. As he gains confidence, we've been going a bit further afield, and a lesson with a Driving Instructor the other day taught him a lot - he plans to have more lessons with her.
Last weekend, he went to Melbourne with his Mum, and drove all the way there, then home again - at night this time. He was very pleased with himself!
But there's a good few weeks to go before he'll be ready to take the test.

Things were much less complicated when my mother got her driving licence. She simply drove up to the police station, where the copper remarked that he's been expecting her, as he'd seen her driving around, and duly issued the licence. This was in Minyip, in 1926. She was just 18.

Oddly, she never owned a car herself until after Dad died, when she traded in the big Ford sedan for a Mini Minor.

 As far as I know she only had one accident in all her years of driving - one frosty morning, the Mini skidded on a patch of ice, and slid into a deep culvert. Mum was unhurt, though shaken, but the Mini needed repairs. Mum swore that was it - she'd never drive again; but I'm afraid I tricked her. When the Mini was fixed again, I suggested we go to the garage and inspect it. Once we got there, and she was happy with the repairs, I told her she'd have to drive herself home, and left her to it. Looking back, it was a bit cruel, but she did indeed drive for a good few years after that, keeping her independence, so I suppose it was justified.
She finally sold her car when she turned 80, as she was getting deaf, and no longer felt confident driving.

She used to tell some funny stories about driving in the early days. On one occasion some of the family were travelling from Minyip to Ballarat. A few miles out of Beaufort, they got a puncture. Having already used the spare earlier in the trip (it's about 200 km from Miyip to Ballarat) they had a problem.
In those days, care tyres had a rubber inner tube, much as bicycles still do today. If the tube was punctured, it had to be repaired by vulcanizing a new patch on - a process requiring heat and a special kit; not feasible on the side of the road.
But they were resourceful in those days - some items of underclothing were requisitioned from the ladies in the party, rolled up tightly, and stuffed into the tyre. Then they continued on their bumpy way to Beaufort, where a new inner tube was installed. One hopes that when they finally got to Ballarat, the ladies were able to replace their petticoats!