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I'm a fifth of the way through the year and answering questions posed by our kids via StoryWorth. This is the first week I didn't answer the original question about turning 21. There isn't much to say for two reasons: when I turned 18 (legal age in Wisconsin then, I was going to school in Iowa where the drinking age was 19. On a trip home after turning 18 a couple friends and I toured the Miller Brewery in Milwaukee and sampled a couple beers which I recall fondly.
I was in my last semester at Drake when I reached 21. At the time I worked nights at WHO before going to class and was in bed by mid-afternoon which doesn't make for many exciting nights. StoryWorth offers alternative questions - about learning to drive or about your first car - leading to today's chapter about the vehicles in my life.
I was four when Mom and Dad enrolled me in kindergarten at St. Paul Lutheran School in Janesville. I was seventeen when I headed to Drake University, graduating when I was twenty years, three months.
Overall it was nice being on the young side to reach those milestones; but one consequence was not being able to take driver’s education until junior year of high school.
That meant Dad chauffeured my date and I to high school dances or hoping my girlfriend was willing to walk or ride bikes to go out.
No, I was not the cool kid on campus.
In 2021 I don’t know how many high schools offer Driver’s Education as part of their curriculum but I doubt there are many.
In January 1980 I was one of several dozen students enrolled in Driver’s Ed class at Joseph A. Craig High.
The class was divided into three groups that rotated from one part of the class to the next. One section met in a standard classroom with lectures and quizzes; the second took place in a big room with simulators where we sat, hands on the steering wheel and right foot ready to hit the gas or brake; the third section was in a real car either driving solo in a closed off parking lot with classmates or on the streets and highways around town with a teacher and two classmates.
The class was part of the normal school day and was a tough ‘A.’ Night driving required coming back to school in the evening. Each of us got fifteen minutes behind the wheel whenever we drove off campus.
That meant Dad chauffeured my date and I to high school dances or hoping my girlfriend was willing to walk or ride bikes to go out.
No, I was not the cool kid on campus.
In 2021 I don’t know how many high schools offer Driver’s Education as part of their curriculum but I doubt there are many.
In January 1980 I was one of several dozen students enrolled in Driver’s Ed class at Joseph A. Craig High.
The class was divided into three groups that rotated from one part of the class to the next. One section met in a standard classroom with lectures and quizzes; the second took place in a big room with simulators where we sat, hands on the steering wheel and right foot ready to hit the gas or brake; the third section was in a real car either driving solo in a closed off parking lot with classmates or on the streets and highways around town with a teacher and two classmates.
The class was part of the normal school day and was a tough ‘A.’ Night driving required coming back to school in the evening. Each of us got fifteen minutes behind the wheel whenever we drove off campus.
At home I practiced driving with Dad and occasionally drove both parents and sister around town. (Danielle arrived on the scene in 1975.)
That June I took my driver’s test at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles. I passed the exam and the driver’s test despite ‘nudging’ a car while parallel parking. I didn’t have my own car, but Dad allowed me to drive his 1968 AMC Rebel to work, on dates, and occasionally to school. We lived close enough to walk and there were limited parking spaces available so I only remember driving to school once.
When it was time for college, I was got my mom’s car (she got a new one) to drive. It was a 1972 AMC Ambassador.
It was a big car. A girl from my class also going to Drake carpooled for the trip. We got all of her stuff and mine in the car. That may have more to do with how much we took than the car’s size, maybe a little of both.
A couple memories about that Ambassador: I used to tuck it in at night during the winter. During the coldest days and nights I placed an old blanket over the engine and closed the hood; I’m not sure it made a difference but the car started every time.
Another memory is from Christmas break in 1982 when I drove my good friend Yasin to the airport. In Chicago. Originally, he was taking a bus from Des Moines to O’Hare Field to catch a plane to see family friends in Pennsylvania. The bus was leaving at midnight, but an incoming snowstorm delayed it.
Yasin didn’t have many options, so I gave him and another student a ride to the airport 330 miles away. Before leaving town, I returned to the apartment where I was staying with a friend while the dorms were closed for the holiday. My friend came along to keep me company on an all-night adventure.
We pulled in front of the terminal at airport that morning, then headed back. Before we finished the trip that oncoming snowstorm was in central Iowa which made our 4 hour trip significantly longer.
The Ambassador came to school with me so I could drive to KDMI-FM (I was hired over the summer and started the weekend I moved). It did the job a couple years. The car’s demise came when it stopped going in reverse. I worked around it by pulling into parking spaces where I could pull ahead, but that wasn’t a long term solution.
My folks and paternal grandparents came to my rescue with a used AMC Pacer. (My parents were loyal to AMC because early in their marriage when they went car shopping with cash in hand only the AMC dealer took them seriously. When Chrysler bought AMC in 1987, mom and dad started driving Jeeps or Chryslers.)
That June I took my driver’s test at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles. I passed the exam and the driver’s test despite ‘nudging’ a car while parallel parking. I didn’t have my own car, but Dad allowed me to drive his 1968 AMC Rebel to work, on dates, and occasionally to school. We lived close enough to walk and there were limited parking spaces available so I only remember driving to school once.
When it was time for college, I was got my mom’s car (she got a new one) to drive. It was a 1972 AMC Ambassador.
It was a big car. A girl from my class also going to Drake carpooled for the trip. We got all of her stuff and mine in the car. That may have more to do with how much we took than the car’s size, maybe a little of both.
A couple memories about that Ambassador: I used to tuck it in at night during the winter. During the coldest days and nights I placed an old blanket over the engine and closed the hood; I’m not sure it made a difference but the car started every time.
Another memory is from Christmas break in 1982 when I drove my good friend Yasin to the airport. In Chicago. Originally, he was taking a bus from Des Moines to O’Hare Field to catch a plane to see family friends in Pennsylvania. The bus was leaving at midnight, but an incoming snowstorm delayed it.
Yasin didn’t have many options, so I gave him and another student a ride to the airport 330 miles away. Before leaving town, I returned to the apartment where I was staying with a friend while the dorms were closed for the holiday. My friend came along to keep me company on an all-night adventure.
We pulled in front of the terminal at airport that morning, then headed back. Before we finished the trip that oncoming snowstorm was in central Iowa which made our 4 hour trip significantly longer.
The Ambassador came to school with me so I could drive to KDMI-FM (I was hired over the summer and started the weekend I moved). It did the job a couple years. The car’s demise came when it stopped going in reverse. I worked around it by pulling into parking spaces where I could pull ahead, but that wasn’t a long term solution.
My folks and paternal grandparents came to my rescue with a used AMC Pacer. (My parents were loyal to AMC because early in their marriage when they went car shopping with cash in hand only the AMC dealer took them seriously. When Chrysler bought AMC in 1987, mom and dad started driving Jeeps or Chryslers.)
The Pacer at Grandpa & Grandma's house.
L to R - Rhonda and David Mossner ; Grandma Clara Mossner.
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The Pacer is what my bride and I drove away from church. A couple miles down the road, both hungry, we hit a McDonald’s, Rhonda in her wedding dress and I was in my suit as we ordered at the drive-thru. Apparently the sight of living wedding cake toppers didn’t faze the employee as she handed us the food.
We replaced the Pacer with a Renault Encore in 1986. That was an experience.
Other than one time in college when a friend with a 5-speed transmission let me try his stick shift Honda our first experience with a clutch came on the test drive in downtown Des Moines.
We had that economical car five years before getting a bigger one. Leonard drove the Encore from Osceola, Iowa to Pierre, South Dakota while staying close to the U-Haul truck. It was a fun car to drive and got good gas mileage, but once Matthew came along it wasn’t a good fit for his car seat.
The Pacer is what my bride and I drove away from church. A couple miles down the road, both hungry, we hit a McDonald’s, Rhonda in her wedding dress and I was in my suit as we ordered at the drive-thru. Apparently the sight of living wedding cake toppers didn’t faze the employee as she handed us the food.
We replaced the Pacer with a Renault Encore in 1986. That was an experience.
Other than one time in college when a friend with a 5-speed transmission let me try his stick shift Honda our first experience with a clutch came on the test drive in downtown Des Moines.
We had that economical car five years before getting a bigger one. Leonard drove the Encore from Osceola, Iowa to Pierre, South Dakota while staying close to the U-Haul truck. It was a fun car to drive and got good gas mileage, but once Matthew came along it wasn’t a good fit for his car seat.
Leonard behind the wheel of our Renault Encore. (1986)
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Our next car was a Mercury Tracer replaced after an accident with a pre-owned Chrysler minivan.
The first, second car we had was a GMC Jimmy which I thought was necessary to get around north Wisconsin while selling insurance. But after spending $150 to replace one tire on it I decided I didn't need it that much.
Before we bought our own GMC Jimmy, I drove one while working at KELO-TV in Pierre.
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It was a fun to drive, bigger than others I’d driven, which I noticed one time when I pulled up the drive of some clients. As their dogs jumped high enough to look at me through the window, I decided to wait for my hosts to literally call off their dogs.
Next up was a Ford Escort Wagon with a stick, replacing the first with a second after four years, and drove it until it was time for a new ride and to pass the first along to our oldest son.
The Escort was perfect for our family and all the miles I was driving. While working for AAL (Aid Association for Lutherans, now Thrivent Financial) I usually drove 3,000 miles a month. It wasn’t sexy, but it fit the bill.
I think it was while driving the first Escort I was hit by a deer. That’s right. A big ol’ Buck hit me broadside.
It was pitch dark as I drove north on Eau Claire County G from Augusta to Stanley for client meeting. A vast pine forest limited light from the moon and I was moving along at highway speed when, WHAM! I slammed on the brakes, came to a stop and tried to get out.
The driver’s door jammed so I climbed across to get out then moved around the car to check the damage. There was a dent on the door and an indentation in the rear door from the deer’s rump. It apparently survived the accident got up and ran into the woods after the crash.
The next encounter was a near miss while driving the second Escort when a doe and fawn bounded across the road. I slammed on the brakes coming to a stop nearly hitting the young one. There wasn’t damage, just four hairs pinched between the hood and body of the car.
As the second Escort started wearing down from all the miles, I got interested in the Gas-Electric Hybrid cars coming on the market.
While getting the oil changed at the Ford dealership once I asked a salesman about hybrids. He thought they were a waste of time, and didn’t think Ford would ever make one.
While Ford eventually did, it wasn’t soon enough.
We traded the Escort for a 2002 Toyota Prius in early 2003. It was a beast, taking me more than 250,000 miles while getting great gas mileage. Eleven years later I replaced it with a 2014 Prius C.
It was a fun to drive, bigger than others I’d driven, which I noticed one time when I pulled up the drive of some clients. As their dogs jumped high enough to look at me through the window, I decided to wait for my hosts to literally call off their dogs.
Next up was a Ford Escort Wagon with a stick, replacing the first with a second after four years, and drove it until it was time for a new ride and to pass the first along to our oldest son.
The Escort was perfect for our family and all the miles I was driving. While working for AAL (Aid Association for Lutherans, now Thrivent Financial) I usually drove 3,000 miles a month. It wasn’t sexy, but it fit the bill.
I think it was while driving the first Escort I was hit by a deer. That’s right. A big ol’ Buck hit me broadside.
It was pitch dark as I drove north on Eau Claire County G from Augusta to Stanley for client meeting. A vast pine forest limited light from the moon and I was moving along at highway speed when, WHAM! I slammed on the brakes, came to a stop and tried to get out.
The driver’s door jammed so I climbed across to get out then moved around the car to check the damage. There was a dent on the door and an indentation in the rear door from the deer’s rump. It apparently survived the accident got up and ran into the woods after the crash.
The next encounter was a near miss while driving the second Escort when a doe and fawn bounded across the road. I slammed on the brakes coming to a stop nearly hitting the young one. There wasn’t damage, just four hairs pinched between the hood and body of the car.
As the second Escort started wearing down from all the miles, I got interested in the Gas-Electric Hybrid cars coming on the market.
While getting the oil changed at the Ford dealership once I asked a salesman about hybrids. He thought they were a waste of time, and didn’t think Ford would ever make one.
While Ford eventually did, it wasn’t soon enough.
We traded the Escort for a 2002 Toyota Prius in early 2003. It was a beast, taking me more than 250,000 miles while getting great gas mileage. Eleven years later I replaced it with a 2014 Prius C.
The new Prius C. 11/28/2014
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Not counting the cars where Rhonda was the primary driver - my total mileage is way past a million. To the best of my memory I've driven a Rebel, Ambassador, Pacer, Encore, GMC Jimmy (at KELO), Tracer, Buick Wagon (at WISC), Jimmy, Escort I, Escort II, Prius, and Prius C.
In all that time there were four accidents and one ticket. The first two fender-benders happened in Des Moines when at Drake driving the Ambassador (neither my fault according to police). There was the collision with the deer, but the closest call was while driving home to Augusta from Minneapolis.
The 2002 Toyota Prius took me farthest and survived a nasty collision.
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It was 2004. I was a fundraiser with the LCMS North Wisconsin District meeting with donors and prospective donors across the northern part of the state and Michigan's Upper Peninsula.
Rhonda joined me for a visit with a young couple in Minneapolis. Finished, we drove east on Interstate highway 94. We were in Wisconsin, east of Hudson when a passing tractor-trailer rig wanted to move from the passing lane into the right lane. The problem was that's where we were in the Prius.
The lug nuts on the front wheel of the cab made contact just behind the front tire on the driver's side cutting through the metal body like a saw through Balsa wood. I was able to get on the shoulder while sounding the horn and the driver swerved back to his lane.
He stopped and waited with us for the State Patrol. We were unhurt although a bit shook. The Prius looked bad with its nasty scar but was road worthy and we made it home.
There are several ways it could have been worse. I'm thankful the Lord kept us safely in His hands.
The ticket is more recent. I was turning right at the bottom of an exit ramp from an Interstate. After checking for traffic and seeing ample room, I made the turn then instantly saw flashing lights in my rear view mirror. I hadn't seen the "No Turn on Red" sign and paid for it!
I wonder where the next million miles might lead?
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