Most of you who are reading this have an Iowa driver’s license and likely took some form of driver’s education class. For many of you, it was a class you took as part of your curriculum in your freshman year of high school. 

My driver’s ed teacher was Fritz Nielsen. Fritz passed away a few years ago at age 96, but not without leaving a legacy of lessons for many people like me. I liked him a lot, and, as such, I would kid around with him frequently. Sometimes he would laugh. More often, he would not, at least not openly. 

I took driver’s ed in the summer, and I had two good friends as driving partners. Each time when we would go for our drives, and it was my turn in the driver’s seat, I would start by asking Fritz, “So, how fast will this thing go?” Then I would rev up the engine while it was still in park. Fritz never replied but would simply look forward and slowly shake his head, holding back a smile. 

I remember when Fritz asked me to back the car up between two poles that were about 50 feet apart. I did what he told me to do — and I placed the car about an inch from one of the poles. Fritz asked me, “How about putting the car in the middle, Goodman?” My polite reply was, “You are going to need to be more specific with your instructions, Mr. Nielsen.” More head-shaking from Fritz. 

Another time, we were driving in the pouring rain and stopped to change drivers. I quickly made my way to the driver’s seat while the other guys fumbled around and hesitated to get in. I quickly locked the doors and watched them get soaked while repeatedly trying to open the handles. Fritz made eye contact with me this time and again slowly shook his head in frustration — but I think he was smiling inside. 

Even with all the joking around, I did learn a lot in driver’s ed, including a lesson from a segment on “jackrabbit starts.” I recall learning that those who take off quickly end up being at the same stoplight down the road as the person who drove at a rational pace, but the “jackrabbit” only used more gas.

I am not the most patient driver, so this lesson slaps me in the face each time I am in a hurry and end up at a stoplight next to all the cars I hastily passed by — and it punches me in the face when a police officer reminds me of it. 

I have a feeling that, when this inevitably happens to me again, Fritz will certainly be smiling from above — and shaking his head in frustration. 

Have fantastic Friday, and thanks for reading.

Shane Goodman
Editor and Publisher
Times Vedette digital editions
shane@gctimesnews.com
641-332-2707