Kansas, Prairie Spirit Trail, Learning to drive

Prairie States Trip -- Day 4 

Conveniently, the bike trail runs right in front of the hotel.  After a quick breakfast, I'm on the trail headed north.  A rural rails-to-trails, I am pleasantly surprised with the nicely shaded limestone trail.  Very quiet on a week day, the miles fly by.

Much of the limestone trail is nicely shaded

Is it worth a 5-hour drive?  Perhaps not, but I mind don't driving.  Working out of the house these past years, I like driving.  I've liked driving ever since my first job at the Northwest Auto Wash.  In fact, that's where I learned to drive back in 1976...

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A faint mist rose off the wet rollers as they trundled down the car conveyor.  The many apparatuses of the car wash burst to life.  Humming, squeaking, and rattling in anticipation of the cars that would soon be arriving.  Around the garage entrance stood the crew of high school boys waiting for their work assignments.  Groggy on an early Saturday morning, they quietly conserve their energy for the 10 hours of work ahead.

“A thousand-car Saturday, shit!” said Stevie.

“A thousand what?” I asked.

“A thousand-car Saturday.  I bet we wash a thousand cars today.  Look at the line already.” explained Stevie, pointing at the cars lined up from the entrance, across the lot and now queuing in the right lane.  “This is gonna suck.”

Prairie Spirit Trail, Welda Trailhead

My first job and my second week of work at the car wash, I was still getting used to the grind of a workday.  As I gazed at the line of cars thinking “that’s one hundred cars per hour – more than one per minute!” the interior garage door burst open and in stalked the manager, Big Danny.  Big Danny wasn’t very big actually -- his name was derived to differentiate him from the assistant manager Little Danny.  He always seemed to be leaning forward as he walked.  Big or little, when he barked out orders, we didn't ask questions, we jumped.

“You two, blowers.  You, mats and towels.  You, rear and passenger-side windows. You, driver-side windows.” Big Danny said, delegating the jobs to the crew.  Big Danny never referred to us by our names.  We were pretty sure he didn’t know our names.  With the high turnover of employees, why would he bother. “And you,” pointing to me, “drive out.”

Up until this point, I had only performed the simpler jobs, wiping the car dry after it went through the blowers or washing interior windows.  “Gee, I must be doing something right,” I thought as Big Danny had just assigned me the prime job of driving out.  My feeling of achievement was tempered by one thing though, I didn’t know how to drive.  As a 16-year-old, I was old enough to work and old enough to drive, but I was a victim of the school district’s Drivers Education schedule.  It wasn’t offered until spring semester, so here I was working at a car wash having never driven a car.  My only relevant experience consisted of the many hours I spent driving go-carts at an amusement park in Door County.  

I had gleaned the "drive out" procedure by observing my co-workers from the back seat.  Step 1, get in.  Step 2, start the engine.  Step 3, spray the interior windows with cleaner.  Step 4, wash the windshield.  Step 5, when the car gets to the end of the conveyor, put the car in drive.  Step 6, pull out into the parking lot and make a quick right turn.  Step 7, put the car in park.  Step 8, jump out and run to the next car before it rolls off the conveyor.  Repeat.

With the sequence in mind, I waited nervously as the first car emerged from the spinning blur of red and white brushes.  The blowers screamed as they scattered the water droplets from the car.  I waited until the door was clear and got in.  Stevie hopped in the back seat.  Carefully, I turned the key.  I knew enough not to turn the key too long and thankfully I could feel the engine turn over.  OK, spray the windows.  Now, wash the windshield.  So far, so good.

The trail between Welda and Garnett is particularly nice

At the end of the conveyor, I carefully put the car in drive and then, as my extensive go-cart driving had taught me, I floored it.  A 5-HP go-cart engine is pretty sluggish unless you really give it some gas.  A full-size 4-door sedan with wet tires responds quite differently.  With both rear tires squealing, I was halfway across the parking lot before I knew it.  Quickly, I applied the brakes, again using my go-cart pedal technique.  Screeeeech!  The car slid to a halt.  Poor Stevie, careened off the seat back and into the footwell with a grunt.

Lake Garnett Park, The Perfect Spot for Lunch!

After a moment of stunned silence, I collected myself and apologized to Stevie’s feet. The driver’s side door ripped open and there was Big Danny.  He was definitely leaning forward.

“Jesus Christ, don’t you know how to drive?” he spat.

“I don’t,” I admitted.

“Get out of the car!”  Big Danny glanced at Stevie staggering out of the rear door.  “You drive out!”

I stood still, clutching the spray bottle and rag, waiting to be fired.  Big Danny looked back at me, “Rear and passenger-side windows!” he said as he stomped off.  “Surrounded by a bunch of virgins. Jesus Christ!”

Prairie Spirit Trail Route

The good thing about Big Danny was that not only didn’t he remember names, after a while he couldn’t remember who messed up, so three weeks later, Saturday morning, “You, blowers.  You, mats and towels. You, rear-window.” And he points to me, “You drive out.”  This time I was ready.  I carefully turned the key, washed the windshield and slowly eased the car out to the parking lot.  Hey, I can do this.

By the time I took Driver’s Ed months later, I was an absolute expert with right turns at under 5 MPH.  And I was pretty good with a stick-shift too -- as long as I never had to leave first gear.

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Next stop, Iowa!

State:	Kansas
Date:	2016-08-30
Route:	Prairie Spirit Trail, Iola (America's Best Value Inn parking lot) to Garnett City Park
Distance:	60 miles