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Tales From the UP: Driver's Education By Donna Rieder Back in the day (in my case, that being the 1970s) all high school kids were required to take Driver's Education once they reached the age of 16. Driver's Ed was mandatory, not elective. Driver's Ed was taught by one of our school's teachers, Mr. Price. I don't remember exactly which other subject he taught, but after 40-some years, I can still picture his face. He had wavy black hair and black-framed glasses, and looking back now he might be labeled a geek, but there was nothing meek about him when it came to teaching us kids how to drive. There was a fire hydrant situated close to one of the big back parking lots, and in the winter the snow plows would push all the snow up around the edges, except at the entrance, and the local fire department would open the hydrant and flood the parking lot so that the local kids could skate and play hockey there. "The Rink," as we called it, was Mr. Price's arena of choice for teaching winter driving skills. He took his position seriously. We all learned street and highway driving during the early fall, but when winter came, it was time to learn the fine art of driving on ice and snow. Mr. Price was well-loved and respected by us kids, and we trusted him. He taught by using real-life scenarios; he took us out on the rink in an old funky-green Chevy Impala and put us through maneuvers that would have made Steve Austin nervous! When my big day came, I slid in behind the wheel, pulled the seat forward, and fastened my seatbelt. In those days, seatbelt use was optional at home, but not here. I had passed my warm-weather driving test with flying colors, but that day I was a bit nervous, since I, like all the other kids, had been witness to Mr. Price's teaching methods. Before he had me start the car, he reminded me that I was to respond to his instructions the instant they were given, without hesitation. Driving on ice required reflexes that were only mastered by doing the scary things over and over until they became second nature. The ice on the rink wasn't as smooth as it was the morning after it was resurfaced; it had been skated on and driven on many days since then, but it was still slick. As I inched the car onto the ice, I immediately sensed the danger; this was nothing compared to dry asphalt. We made a few slow laps around the perimeter, all while he was instructing me to let off the gas, not touch the brakes, and to steer into the direction the car slid. And then, he asked me to pick up speed. "Head towards the center," he said, "and, give it a little gas, slowly." My cold hands suddenly felt clammy and I caught myself holding my breath. "Here it comes," I thought to myself. "HIT THE BRAKES!" he shouted. I hit the brakes, hard. The car spun around and around at least five times before coming to a stop. My foot still mashing the brake pedal, I turned to look at him. He was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "What do you think?" he asked. "I think I just peed my pants," I said. We repeated the same maneuver several more times, in both directions, until it no longer scared the crap out of me. Instead of fear, I felt confidence. "One more time'" he said, so I did. This time, it was fun. "You passed," he said, still grinning. We crept back to the entrance of the rink, back onto salted pavement, which now felt like glue after that wild experience. As I parked the car and got out, I was now the one grinning like the Cheshire Cat! Donna Rieder's Clifty Creek Farm is located at 3190 White Oak Church Rd, Russell Springs, KY. You can reach Donna by email at cliftycreekkikos@aol.com, or on the Clifty Creek Farm Facebook page. This story was posted on 2026-03-17 15:02:46
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