It was Friday. Every Friday in Elm Grove. And it took two Fridays to gain the kind of freedom 16-year-old teenagers dream of everywhere.
The written test and then THE test. Pass or fail. No in-between. Smile or frown.
Thousands of Wheeling natives recall taking their driving tests on those Fridays at the location featured above, the ole State Police barrack along Stone Church Road in Elm Grove. We walked in and turned right to the counter and then took the written test on the other side of the room. If and when we passed after studying that little booklet, we got our learning permit.
Remember this one?
Which of the following is not true?
a. Dim your headlights within 200 feet of oncoming vehicles
b. Use your parking lights only while parked
c. Dim your headlights within 200 feet of vehicle you are following
d. To avoid being blinded by oncoming lights, look toward the right edge of the roadway
Then came THE driving test.
We learned in parking lots, graveyards, neighborhoods, and around Oglebay Park, and traveling faster than 35 mph felt like warp speed. There are so many mirrors, seatbelts were optional, and no way did you mess with the radio with Mom or Dad in instructor mode.
Sooner than later, YOUR Friday would arrive, and that meant you had to be on your best behavior with the intimidating Trooper – and her or his clipboard – on the passenger’s side of your vehicle. First, you the right out of the parking lot (without striking oncoming traffic, of course) and traveled to the bottom of the hill; then you navigated the right turn onto Woodland Acres Road and proceeded to the intersection of Woodland and Baird Street for that tricky three-point turnaround.
And then?
Parallel parking. Like you did in your neighborhood or in the nearby downtown area. Over and over. Your back bumper needed to be even with the other vehicle’s back bumper before turning the wheel as much as possible; once the middle of your passenger door was even with the back bumper, you turned the wheel to the opposite extreme before straightening out without striking the car or truck behind.
And then during the actual test, there were two windshield-high barriers with a parking-spot length of space separating them so, there were no shortcuts. You knew how, or you didn’t. Once again, pass or fail.
It was a good weekend or an embarrassingly bad one because, well, if you failed you had to tell your friends you wouldn’t be able to borrow your Mom’s or Dad’s car to cruise National Road and end up back at Rax to see everyone else.
