Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself – PART X

The junior prom with Lisa Mehlman actually closed out a period of my life in which I was forced to rely on other people for special “travel arrangements.” This was particularly annoying and awkward when the “travel” involved dating beautiful young ladies. 

The junior prom was held in June of 1973.  My seventeenth birthday arrived on September fourth of that same year.  My gift to myself on my seventeenth birthday was a driver learner’s permit.  Yes, I prepared long and hard to make that goal a reality, as soon as the State of New Jersey Division of Motor Vehicles
acknowledged that I was of proper age to challenge their written test. You see, in rural and suburban New Jersey a driver’s license is a rite of passage for aging teens.

Fortunately, I passed my written exam on the first try.  That same night, mom took me to the rear of the Manalapan High School parking lot for my first informal driving lesson.  Getting behind the wheel of a car, for the very first time, felt very strange to me. I did not feel comfortable commanding this giant “machine” with so much power behind it.  It took a little while before I got a comfortable feel for the steering wheel and brakes. Yes, I could actually tame this mechanical beast.  By then, the first lesson was over and mom drove home. I could see that mom was a little shaken and she felt that dad should probably take me out, next.  But, that did not happen.

That night it was decided by both of my parents that an investment in professional driving lessons from an accredited driving school was worthwhile.  So, they reached out to the Howell Driving School in the town with the same name.  The school was owned by a fellow named Herb Rosenbloom, who also was its main instructor.  Herb was to be my driving teacher. The lessons were to take place after school hours and also on Saturday mornings.  Herb would also take me for my driving test in the same driving school car I was training in.

I seemed to do well on my first lesson and Herb Rosenbloom was more than pleased.  His quick approval actually caught me by surprise, since I was fairly uncoordinated in just about everything else I ever attempted.  Not with driving, though.  I only needed about five or six (I don’ remember the exact number) lessons before I was ready to take my road test in Eatontown (NJ).

When the day came for the driving test, I had a few butterflies in my stomach, but was ready to get it all over with.  That day, Herb picked me up at the house and let me drive all the way to Eatontown, which was a twenty minute or so trip. On the way, we reviewed and practiced some of the test requirements I would have to pass. Once at the Division of Motor Vehicles’ test track, we waited in line for my turn to come.  There were only a few cars ahead of us.  I was a bit anxious about the experience, but nonetheless confident with my skills.

As soon as Motor Vehicles’ was ready, we drove up to the spot where the MV tester enters the car and signals the start of the test.  The fellow I was driving with, like most other testers I have heard about, sat emotionless in the passenger’s seat as I made my way around the test track. The only time he spoke t0 me was to give out instructions as to what driving maneuver he wished for me to complete.  The three main ones were: the K turn, parallel parking and parking on a hill.  Fortunately, I was successful with each of those on my first try.  Still, the tester sat next to me with his clip board, pen and poker face.

At the end of the test, the MV employee stamped and handed me a card, before telling me to have a good day.  He said nothing else before leaving the car.  The smile on Herb Rosenbloom’s face was much more telling. “Congratulations Marc, you passed the test,” he said.  So, we parked the car and went into the Motor
Vehicles’ building to have my permit stamped “Legal Driver”.  For whatever reason, Herb drove me home rather than to let me drive.

When I walked in our house, everybody made a huge fuss.  I could tell that mom was hiding a little fear about me soon wanting to get behind the wheel of a car by myself.  Of course, this was my immediate goal and I had legally earned that right.  There was some loud discussion over the time frame of my first solo drive and which vehicle I would use, but I came out on top of the debate. The 1970 Chevy Nomad station wagon in the driveway was to be mine and my first solo road trip would happen the same afternoon.  I was allowed to drive over to Bruce Canell’s house in Monmouth Heights.  This was about a one mile drive on Route 9
(not as busy as it is today) and included the use of the Ryan Road jug handle.  The house rules I was given were simple. I was to call home when I arrived at Bruce’s house.  I could only stay an hour or so (to avoid the coming dusk).  And, I needed to call mom just before leaving Bruce’s house for the return trip.

I clearly remember getting behind the wheel alone that first day. Once again the car felt so much larger and much more powerful than I was.  Backing out of the driveway onto Taylor’s Mills Road was quite an event.  Mom was on the front steps watching me pull back with a look of raw nerves on her face.  I was glad she didn’t see the look of discomfort that was probably on my face or hear my heart pounding in my chest. Alone in the driver’s seat, I immediately realized that there was no room for error. There was no one else in the car to take over the steering wheel if I lost control of it.  I was totally on my own.

Fortunately, this day ended on a positive note.  I completed my first solo driving road trip successfully. My car and I were safely back in our driveway at 5 pm, as ordered by mom.  This was an important accomplishment, because it allowed mom to gain a bit more confidence in my driving ability. 

For my next few drives, mom and dad had me take them around to local restaurants and stores to further assess my driving skill.  It seems that they were mostly satisfied – until I accidentally took out a small tree next to the driveway at home. It was a small tree that had recently been planted. I turned into the driveway in one wide swing and didn’t compensate for the tree’s positioning. It jumped out at me. I couldn’t avoid it.  I slightly dented the car on impact. I was fortunate that mom and dad just chalked it up to my ongoing driving experience and didn’t penalize me.

I can’t tell you how great driving a car made me feel.  The years of being stuck on Taylors Mills Road waiting for someone to take me and bring me wherever I wanted to go was finally over.  I could see friends, go to the store, invite girls out (on much more intimate) dates. I could go almost anywhere that I pleased.  Gasoline was still cheap back then (though it was around the time of the first gas shortage). Gas sold for about $ .34 per gallon and my working allowance from the Englishtown Auction was more than enough to keep my gas tank filled and ready to go.

Driving was a huge milestone for me in late 1973, but it was not the only thing happening back then. This was also the start of my senior year in high school.  The year would soon flip over to 1974 and I would soon know where I was going to attend college.  How exciting!

The workload at Ranney was still difficult, but I had most of my required courses already in the bag.  We all knew that colleges would mostly consider the previous three years of work.  I didn’t have the greatest academic record, but it was what it was.  Remember, too, that I was attending a private school, where a C was usually considered a B by public school standards.

My focus during my senior year was exactly where it belonged – on girls.  I was seventeen and I now had a car.  Life could not get much better than that for me.  One question remained; who would be the first girl to occupy the passenger seat of my car?  That question was answered when I called Lisa Mehlman and asked her out to see the movie “Earthquake” in Sensurround at the Eatontown Cinema on Route 36. Lisa lived about three miles from the theater in nearby West Long Branch. This was about a twenty-five minute drive from house.

I was thrilled to pick Lisa up and spend a nice evening with her.  We spent some time with her parents in their living room, before heading out to see the film.  Boy was that a hokey movie. It was more thunderous than well acted.  To this day, Lisa and I chuckle that this may not have been the best date night movie to see, but the experience remains memorable to us both all these years later.

I won’t share how our date ended that night, but it didn’t end on a very goodnote. Lisa and I broke up.  Not that we ever formally announced that we were going together to begin with.  Lisa was two years younger than I was and perhaps, wasn’t looking for a steady boyfriend at the time. We had already known each other for a couple of years and maybe the novelty wore off.  Nothing remarkable. Breakups happen to teenagers all the time.

So, I was back in search of a new, regular girlfriend. The women reading my accounts, today, probably never realized what it is like to be a guy on the other end of love relationships. Boys/Men don’t share a lot about our emotions.  I will tell you that we blush, cry, laugh and feel hurt, just like girls/women do.  And, no, sex is not all we are looking for in a relationship. Not all of us, anyway.  Many of us relish the warmth and familiarity of someone we really care about.  At least, I know I did and still do.

In any case, I wanted a girlfriend that my young life could revolve around, like some of my other friends already in special relationships.  Fortunately, my prayers were soon to be answered in early 1974. My sister, Desly had a close college friend, Linda, who had a sister close to my age.  Desly played matchmaker and Mona got on the phone with me and we talked for an hour.  We hit it off right away and I asked her out on a date on the upcoming Friday night.  She agreed and gave me directions to her house.

When I arrived at Mona’s house to pick her up, I immediately cast my eyes on a very pretty blonde with bright blue eyes and a nice smile – even with braces.  She actually looked like a young Madonna.  Of course, we didn’t know who Madonna was back then, but Mona sure backed into the role of resembling her.

That night we went to the movies (“Bang the Drum Slowly”) and out to the Manalapan Diner for dessert.  Bruce Canell was working there as a bus boy and got a gander at Mona. He thought she was cute. Later that night, we parked in Mona’s driveway to say goodnight. Barbara Streisand was signing “The Way We Were” on the radio.  Mona and I moved ever so close and kissed, passionately. Yes, there were those fireworks that are mentioned in the movies. I actually saw them in my heart and soul.  I don’t know how I drove home that night.  I was in some kind of love fog. When I walked into the house, everyone saw it on my face.  Desly remarked, “Oh mommy, somebody is in love.”   I knew that I was – like never before in my young life.

My relationship with Mona blossomed.  College acceptances rolled in.  And, the good times arrived during my favorite year - 1974.  To be continued…