In 1966, while Daddy busied himself teaching me how to parallel park, Mama busied herself writing to Ohio lawmakers to get the legal driving age changed from 16 to 18, much to my annoyance.
Mama didn’t drive. Daddy had tried to teach her decades earlier, but it didn’t go well. All I could ever wheedle out of Mama was that she did something wrong, and Daddy nearly swallowed his lit cigar.
When Daddy showed an unusually keen interest in helping me learn to parallel park, I became suspicious. Down in the basement, he took great pleasure in slapping