I used to get in trouble at school a lot. And, after doing something that got me in trouble, yet again, the teacher decided she would drive me home. She wanted to personally tell my Mother just how bad I had been and perhaps gain an ally in her quest to make me a better person.
Of course, I was thrilled. I had a crush on this woman. Although I would have sworn at the time it was because she was a real looker. Now I’m pretty sure the crush was due her red Corvette. In either case, for a kid that loved cars, there was no downside. I was getting a ride in a Corvette AND She was driving. In my mind, this was the perfect ending to an otherwise uneventful school day.
I couldn’t have been happier; the ride was amazing. The car had black interior and road like a dream. The teacher was oblivious to my excitement. I think she was concentrating on her speech. The one where I was the villain and she was the poor heroin.
When we drove in the driveway Mom, the wife of a successful car salesman, was outside of our big fancy 2200 square foot home, watering something in our beautifully and professionally landscaped the yard. Back in 1961, the average house was 600 to 900 square feet, so our house looked like a palace. My Dad loved trees and there were about 50 trees around the yard. And Mom, well, she was always dolled up no matter what she was doing.
When the teacher pulled up in the driveway she seemed a bit shocked at how nice everything was. But when we got out of the car and I saw my teacher ready to start in, mom broke in with “Well, what did you do this time?”.
My teacher closed her mouth without saying a word, got back in the car and drove away. That was the last time I ever got to ride in my teachers Corvette.
Perhaps I was a troublemaker, but I always had fun.