Freedom and terror

The following is an account of an episode that occurred in a pasture located near the house I grew up in. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. While helping my grandpa, who's name also happens to be the same as my name, except he actually had a different first name but went by his middle name which is my first name, I got the urge to drive my grandpa's truck. Now, I was five years old and really didn't have much driving experience but he was grandpa so they are pretty open to everything the grandchildren ask for. So, very innocently, I asked him if I could drive his truck. "Sure little buddy." That was him joking around with me but I was being serious. So I asked him if he was fully insured and who his agent was and he just told me that he didn't need any insurance in the pasture. Funny how some things come back to bite us in the butt but I digress ... Anyway, he had parked the truck on a hillside and left the keys in the ignition. It was the early 70's and in a pasture and the biggest threat back then was Tommy McGrady but that's a whole other story. So, there I was, with my grandpa's permission, and a 1970 Ford F150 pickup. Not really sure if the year was 1970 but it was pretty close. And the keys were just dangling. And I did have his permission (please note the previous reply from my grandpa when I asked if I could drive his truck was an approving "Sure little buddy"). So, while he was busy with the cows I walked up to that old white beast (the truck not Tommy McGrady) and tore open the driver's side door. Now, being five and only two feet tall did not dissuade me from driving. In fact, I didn't think much through at that moment. All I remember was Grandpa said Yes!! So I crawled up that big step and crawled up onto the seat. There I was. A driver. Now, I was pretty sharp for a five year old but had never received a driving lesson before. No one explained to me proper braking or use of the accelerator pedal. But I did know this - if you turned the key to the right it would start. So far so good. I turned the key. The engine started and there was a grinding noise accompanying it. So I let go of the key. Now I was pretty focused so I didn't see my grandpa waving his arms wildly about but as an adult I can make that guess. Nor did I hear him shouting crazily at me. But once again, as an adult, I can probably guess that as well. Now, as an inexperienced driver I wasn't really aware of mirror position or proper seat alignment or anything like that. I was five and my feet didn't even touch the pedals yet. But, I could stand in front of the steering wheel and I could pull that lever down. I didn't really understand a gear shifter or the politics of drive and reverse but I did know from watching my dad and grandpa that if you wanted to drive that lever had to be pulled. Unbeknownst to me, my grandpa had already started running up the hill to stop me which I really would have enjoyed as an adult now if I could travel back in time and watch this unfold. So, the truck was now in drive. The other unknown factor I left out was the angle and slope of the hill the truck was parked on. It was facing downhill and there was a little bit of a slope to the hill. In fact, there was enough of a slope that it was unnecessary to even step on the accelerator. As I said before, I had never taken a single driving lesson and already the truck was in drive and I was driving!!! How exciting. I could barely see out the windshield but I did hear the banging on the side of the door. My grandpa, in his late 40's or early 50's, (it was the 70's so who can honestly remember?) was running alongside of the truck as it was starting to build up speed. I believe the only thing that saved us was me pulling the steering wheel and the truck started going back up the hill. I was not able to step on the accelerator but grandpa was able to finally open the door and stop the truck. The barn at the bottom of the hill would have stopped us and I do believe that would have made for an even more interesting story but the facts are what they are. I don't remember much after that. I don't remember Grandpa yelling and screaming at me or being dragged through the pasture back to my house. I don't remember if Tommy McGrady ever showed up. But I do remember that first moment of being behind the wheel and the feeling of being able to go anywhere. It has stayed with me to this very day. Also, that look of terror on my grandpa's face as he was running alongside the truck and pounding on the driver's side door. That look has always stayed with me. So, from my earliest memories come freedom and terror. I guess they had their grip on me all the way back to when I was five and they've never let go. Which is good in some ways. But now, when the moment is right, and some unsuspecting elderly gentlemen is walking on the sidewalk I'll yell "Catch me if you can" and drive off. There's still that look of terror but it will never match that look from so many years ago. And the freedom has lost its glimmer as well. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.