On the road, Father didn’t always know best
If you had a father like mine, the following scene will spark memories.
The family is out for a drive in the 1950s. Dad, of course, is behind the wheel. Some nearby motorist commits a sin —perhaps not signaling, perhaps not jackrabbiting away from a red light fast enough.
And Dad would snort: “Women drivers!”
Or, if my mother wasn’t there, something more pungent.
His response was automatic. Women, he would often say, belonged in the kitchen, and maybe the garden, but not on the highway.
Dad was correct in one way. Female drivers in his day were much less experienced than male drivers, because sexism had denied them the chance to get that experience.
Oh, you need to go to the grocery store, Mother? Walk.
Oh, you’re meeting a friend for lunch? I’ll drive you.
Oh, you need to meet the kids when school lets out? The family bicycle is right over there.
Dad was correct in another way, too. If safe driving depended on good reflexes — it did, and it does — men had far more experience at cultivating them.
Why? Because that same sexism denied women the chance to play competitive sports.
Men were better at anticipating the moves of the other drivers because that skill was incubated in basketball. They were better at judging speed because that skill was critical in boxing. They anticipated when to bounce into the next lane because running backs in football exhibit that skill all the time.
Women of his day? They played a little field hockey, some tennis, some golf. But anything that raised a sweat was considered unladylike, by men and most women alike.
I love to tell today’s teenage girls about the rules that governed basketball in my day.
Women’s teams had six players. Three played on one half of the court and three played on the other. The rule makers — men, no doubt — didn’t want the little ladies to get too overheated.
Today? The tables have turned so completely that it would make my father’s head spin.
Women drive 18-wheelers. Women drive buses. Women drive taxis. Women do most of the family schlepping to appointments, soccer practices, shopping and social events.
How safely do they do it? The insurance industry knows the answer.
More than 70% of all accidents are caused by a male driver, according to the latest trade association figures.
Speeding? Recklessness? Following too closely? Changing lanes without looking or signaling? Yes, indeed, guys: You’re the ones who do all of it.
And the younger the guys are, the more likely they’ll cause wrecks, the industry tells us. Why do you think that men under the age of 25 aren’t allowed to rent a car, but women of the same age can?
Meanwhile, the last vestige of underpinning for my dad’s attitude has melted away.
Women now play almost every sport and exercise regularly. They not only sweat; they learn all about anticipation and hand-eye coordination, same as the guys.
It wasn’t just on family drives that automotive sexism flourished. Return with us now, kiddies, to the days of driver’s education class in high school.
My instructor — always male — would give the boys much more behind-the-wheel time than he’d give the girls. And once a young woman turned the key, the patronizing was as thick as mud.
“Now, you sure you’re ready, dear?”… “You remember which is the gas and which is the brake, right?”… “Always grip the wheel tightly at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock, OK?”
No boy ever got such questions.
Of course, comeuppance is ageless. Every generation delivers it. In my family, the zinger was delivered by my younger brother.
We were out for a family drive. I was something like 10. My brother was something like 8. My dad had to brake sharply to avoid a nearby car. He uttered his usual imprecations.
My brother was sitting on the side of our car closest to the offending motorist. He took a look.
“Hey, Dad!” he announced. “The driver is a man!”
I can’t say that my father changed his tune when he drove in the future. But I can say that the embarrassment on his face evoked a ton of giggling by his sons.
As one of my bosses used to say: As a general rule, generalizing is wrong. Today’s female drivers prove the case, every day.
Bob Levey is a national award-winning columnist.
