I recently renewed my driver’s license. It was a piece of cake. I even did it online from the comfort of my home. In the state of Montana, you can renew your license six months before it expires—mine expires in May . . . and to make it easy, they give you an online option if you qualify.
The option made sense. I don’t like crowds. The DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) always has a crowd and long waiting lines. As an introvert the online option made sense. They ask a few questions, run your driver’s license number for infractions . . . and in less than two minutes they either approve you for a new license or tell you to head to the nearest DMV. The information on the current license is updated. They use the picture already on it (which amazingly looks more like me than it did ten years ago when they first took it). Then they issue a temporary paper copy of the license until the new one comes in a couple weeks in the mail. It was easy. I don’t have to renew again until 2033!
That’s the way to do it!
I came to my license later than my friends. They all got their licenses around the age of 16. I got mine closer to my 18th birthday. Why so late? My father was stationed overseas on “isolated tour of duty”. My three siblings and I were living in an apartment with our mother in the Wheaton area of the Maryland suburb of Washington, D.C. My mother was working all the time. We only had one car which she needed to use. I did extracurricular activities after school. Who had the time or car to teach me the fine art of driving an automobile? Besides, all my friends had licenses and cars. I was in no hurry to learn to drive . . . remember this was the Washington, D.C. area—millions of drivers and cars . . . the infamous Beltway.
I took driver’s education during my senior year of high school . . . me and a whole bunch of wet behind the ears sophomores. There is no worse stigma in high school than taking a sophomore class your senior year. I survived . . . I survived the class and the teasing. The class was taught by the shop teacher who was also the head coach of the football team. No stereotyping at good ol’ Wheaton High School! We had standard in-class instruction and our driving (at least 75% of it) was done on a driving range on the school property next to the football field. We drove off campus twice—once in the neighborhood around the school and once on the Beltway. That was it. At the semester, if you passed, you were deemed worthy of going to the DMV to get a legal license to be set upon the unsuspecting masses.
Now that may sound crazy, but you must understand . . . in Maryland, at least back in the dark ages, driver’s tests were given on a driving range. It started with the written test—paper and pencil stuff and ended with the driving part.
The driving test started as soon as you entered your car with the official examiner. This individual was scoring the test from the git-go. Adjust the mirrors. Adjust the seat. Buckle your seat belt even though it was not law back then (bonus points). Foot on the brake. Start the car. Look over your shoulder. Back out. Head over to the driving range. Signal to enter the driving range and drive wherever the examiner directed. On the figure eight driving range there were an array of traffic signs, obstacles, the infamous orange cones to demonstrate one’s skill at parallel parking, and a place to do a three-point turn. Then it was back to the parking lot to park the car and find out if you passed.
This was the downfall of many. Most thought that once they were off the driving range that the test was over—WRONG! The state employed examiner went by the book and the test was not over until the car was parked, the ignition turned off, and everyone exited the car. They nailed and denied lot of folks their license for taking a deep breath of relief and letting their guard down.
Luckily, I passed.
I am not sure the world was ready to let me loose with a driver’s license! I know I wasn’t. Driving in the Washington, D.C. area scared you-know-what out of me. Driving in D.C. is an adventure. Thankfully, I had friends who loved to drive and had cars. Thankfully my mother needed the car for work. Thankfully I was always busy after school activities. It was okay. I wasn’t complaining.
Now my fear of driving was because of the sheer numbers of people and cars. They were everywhere. Millions, if not billions, of them. The Beltway was a multi-lane (eight lanes) racetrack resembling the Indianapolis Speedway . . . and that is how everyone drove on it. NASCAR wanna-bes! That and the fact that the teacher who taught the driver’s education class at my school relished scaring the poop out of the students. He loved to show those films from the late 1950s to early 1970s that emphasized the deadly aspects of driving . . . the blood and guts. It seems that the state of Ohio had a corner on the market of gruesome driver ed films. We watched countless Ohio Highway Patrol movies on accidents that included all the bloody, gory details . . . bodies lifted into ambulances, bodies covered with sheets, shattered windshields, mangled cars, blood splotches everywhere. I don’t know about the rest of my classmates, but his scare tactics worked on me.
The film I remember best—which never won an Oscar—had Mr. Rellik as the main character. The 1966 film was The Third Killer. Mr. Rellik (“killer” spelled backwards) was an agent of death. Facing a decline in his top two accounts (heart disease and cancer), he pursues a third killer—traffic fatalities—by giving hapless motorists bad advice that results in their deaths via car accidents and wrecks. Definitely got my attention . . . nearly 50 years later I still remember Mr. Rellik! The idea was to scare people into being better and safer drivers.
My driver’s ed instructor thought along those same lines, but his solution was more shocking and gross. He said to leave the wrecks alone! Leave they where they happened . . . mangled cars and dead bodies. Let the people see the results of careless and reckless driving. He was certain that if people saw enough dead bodies on the side of the road everyone would slow down and pay attention to their driving.
The state of Montana, where I live now, has its own subliminal version of that idea. They have the “white crosses” that dot the roadways and highways of the state. Close to 3,000 of those white crosses mark the roadways of Montana thanks to the American Legion who started the program in 1953, The idea is simple enough. Wherever there is a traffic fatality in Montana the American Legion erects a white cross. It seems that they are everywhere. The road I commute for work is littered with them and is known as one of the most dangerous roads to travel in the state.
The American Legion believed that these “white crosses” would serve and a reminder of the dangers of the road and driving . . . also to remind drivers of those who lost their lives. The state of Montana legally endorsed the program that is run without any funding from the state government. The American Legion bears the full financial responsibility for this program. They have been doing it for 70 years now . . . and, as I said, they are everywhere . . . the Montana scare tactic.
Does it work? Probably about as well as those “crash and burn” films of driver education lore. They do get your attention. Tourists are always asking what all those “white crosses” are for. The story behind is intended for good. If you really think about it, yeah it can be scary. At least they make me think . . . especially on the back end of my driving years.
I’m a little more cautious driving now-a-days. I don’t trust other drivers much . . . too many distractions. Critters make it a little more hair-raising. Lots of suicidal deer in Montana. I pay more attention while driving. I’d like to shoot for a new license in 2033—there are lots of 75 year olds tooling down the road in Montana. Which is pretty scary when I think about it. But one has to dream! Who knows! I might even run into my old nemesis—Mr. Rellik! Happy roads, my friends! Watch out for me!
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