My first-ever driving lesson
April 26th, 2007
I admire the artwork that has been hung in the trendy lobby of Calgary’s Hotel Arts since my last stay, about a year ago.
Crisply dressed business folk strut through the lobby scanning business briefs. A young couple with two small children looks over a map of downtown Calgary while the chatty bellman jokes with an elderly gentleman about the snowy weather forecast.
I try to relax in the comfortable surroundings but a knot is ratcheting up in the pit of my stomach. It’s not related to a make-or-break business deal or a pending keynote speech though. The source of my unease is the person I’m about to meet. In a few minutes Phyllis Gittens will pull up in front of the Hotel Arts in her 2002 Saturn SC1 and for the next few hours, my ego will be on the line.
Phyllis, a 67-year-old driving instructor, is giving me a three-hour driving lesson, my first ever. There will no drag strips, racetracks or off-road courses involved in this lesson though. The streets of downtown Calgary and the freeways that move busy Calgarians through Cowtown will be our classroom. I’ll be hitting Deerfoot Trail under the watchful eye of someone who has logged more than 1.3 million kilometres teaching Calgary-area people how to drive safely and politely.
I had tracked Phyllis down as part of a plan to visit people in Canada whose vehicles are integral parts of their livelihood, vehicle love affairs. This lady was one of those people and I figured even though I’ve driven four or five million kilometres, someone like Phyllis Gittens might be able to teach me a thing or two about driving.
That assumption, along with the fact that Calgary’s biggest television station has caught wind of my driving lesson and will be in the back keeping an eye on things, are obviously what is fuelling the turbulence in my tummy.
I recall check rides during pilot training in the Canadian Air Force. Will Phyllis be cranky and scary like the instructor who kept flipping our Tudor jet into spins to test my recovery technique? Will her Saturn have a driver-training billboard on the roof warning drivers to steer clear of the middle aged, grey-bearded gent who is finally getting around to learning to drive?
Right on time, the white Saturn 3-door coupe pulls up. It looks almost new with a Safety in Motion Student Driver sign on the roof proclaiming this car is most likely in the hands of a student driver.
Phyllis is a small woman, neat and tidy with a winning smile that puts me more at ease than the CTV cameraman sizing up the back seat. We chat and I learn Phyllis drove dump trucks in Calgary years ago but soon realized men made more money than women in that job. She wanted the same pay as men doing a job that would do some good while satisfying her thirst for the wheel so she started teaching driving, mostly to young people.
“This is my third Saturn. I put 500,000 kilometres on them and then trade for another.” Phyllis’ tone relaxes me. “They’re good sturdy cars that look nice, are reasonably priced and stand up very well to the stresses of driver training.
I strap in behind the wheel, adjust the mirrors and browse the controls noticing the odometer reads a whopping 496,604 kilometres, the most of any car I’ve ever driven.
When I release the hand brake, Phyllis reminds me to put the transmission into gear first, to put my window down a tiny bit and not to forget my signal light. OK, but I probably would have done those things anyway if I didn’t have a TV camera humming in the back seat, a microphone hanging from the sun visor and the queen of Calgary’s driving instructors politely about to tear my driving habits to shreds.
I merge onto 12th Street and pull up behind a car stopped at a traffic light. Closing in, the brakes “automatically” come on and we stop a full car-length behind it. I glance at Phyllis realizing she has a brake pedal of her own. She tells me I should leave a car length between the car in front and mine, in case we are rear-ended.
It’s going to be a long lesson, three blocks from the hotel and I’ve already been “corrected” on a half dozen issues.
As we continue past the Saddledome Stadium, I’m coached on hand position on the wheel, reminded of shoulder checks when lane changing and feel the brakes come on a couple more times before noticing I’m 2 or 3 kilometres over Calgary’s 50 km/h speed limit.
I adjust the heater to combat the sweats as we maneuver the congested streets of Calgary. Crosswalks, speed zones, one-way signs and construction zones are all out there, feeding Phyllis a feast of advice to throw my way. Other drivers give me wide berth.
Phyllis’s knows her stuff and it doesn’t take long for me to settle into the lesson and accept her critiques as constructive. We drive into the foothills west of the city and practice ditch entry and recovery, skid control and the art of “cruise control” before motoring back to Calgary. I’m a bit flabbergasted that the tight, comfortable coupe I’m driving has close to a half million kilometers on it
“I teach peoples how to drive safely and to react in a proper manner in emergency situations.” Phyllis explains. “Some former students have told me of avoiding collisions using tactics I’ve taught them.”
We arrive back at the Hotel Arts. I feel like we’ve been on the road for days.
“You’re really pretty good!” Phyllis laughs, making me feel a little better about my performance.
I’m surprised though. My missed shoulder check, that late signal light and what about those dang hand positions on the steering wheel?
But Phyllis made me think about things that I will work on. And it probably doesn’t hurt people like me, who’ve been driving for 25 or 30 years, to spend a few hours with someone like Phyllis to see what bad driving habits have festered over the years.
So if you’re in Calgary with a few hours on your hands, give Phyllis Gittens at Safety in Motion a call. I guarantee you’ll learn something about driving, and meet a great lady in the process.
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