Strange Family Folklore

Driving Ms Velma

Teresa Roberson

Once again, Mom and I were busy in the kitchen, when she started dropping some delicious details from her childhood. I’d heard different stories about her learning how to drive, but she added some curious flavor to this retelling.

My great grandfather, Jesse Strange, was born a slave and freed in his 20s. His 12 children were born free, and referred to as "The First Freeborn Generation." In this podcast series, I interview Jesse Strange's descendants in order to document our stories. This is Strange Family Folklore.

 

Once again, Mom and I were busy in the kitchen, when she started dropping some delicious details from her childhood. I’d heard different stories about her learning how to drive, but she added some curious flavor to this retelling.

 

Teresa Roberson  

Now tell me again, how you practice for getting your driver's license.

 

Velma Roberson  

I practiced on daddy's truck. I took tobacco sticks. I put one in front of the truck, one in the back of the truck. I backed up, then I pulled up to get out of the tobacco sticks. I saw that was working fine. I did it again to make sure I had it down perfect.

 

Now, if your ears perked up at the mention of “tobacco sticks,” then you understand why I whipped out my phone to record this conversation. By the way, Mom’s family were tobacco farmers.

 

Teresa Roberson  

When you were practicing to get your driver's license, this was the 1950s. Right? 

 

Velma Roberson  

Yeah. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

I didn't even know they gave people driver's license back then.

 

Velma Roberson  

I was 14 years old when I got...wait a minute, yeah, 14, when I got my license.

 

Teresa Roberson  

Wow. So, that was about 1954? 

 

Velma Roberson  

Something like that. But I had been driving before I got my license. Driving tractor and driving Olander's car because Olander was in the military. 

 

Uncle Olander was the second of Mom’s four older brothers.

 

When you live on a farm, nobody is going to mess with your equipment on your farm. You can leave your keys in the car, back in the day, can't do it now. Nobody's gonna touch that car. They might see the keys in there, but they know they don't belong to them. So, Olivia and I would go out there and we decided we were going to learn to drive. Stick shift.

 

Olivia was Mom’s sister-in-law who was married to Floyd Jr., Mom’s first older brother.

 

So, we decided whatever gear we had it in, well, that's the direction that the car was gonna go. If it went back, we said, "Oh, that's reverse." So, we got it to go in forward and we would go up to the road, but we would not get in the road. We always stayed on a dirt road. And we turned around and came on back. Then the other one would take it up the dirt road, next to the hard service road, turn around and come back. And that's how we learned to drive.

 

Teresa Roberson  

Now, you were a teenager, but Olivia was in her 20s, right? 

 

Velma Roberson  

Oh, yeah. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

And she hadn't learned how to drive? 

 

Velma Roberson  

No, that was before Linda was born. 

 

Linda was the oldest of three daughters born to Aunt Olivia and Uncle Floyd.

 

She had not learned to drive. We decided that we were going out here and try to drive because nobody was home, but the two of us and Olander's car was out there with keys in it. So, we just had a ball. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

How often did that happen? 

 

Velma Roberson  

Every time someone would leave home and just the two of us be home.

 

Teresa Roberson  

So, when she and Uncle Floyd were married, they were living with you guys? 

 

Velma Roberson  

No, they were living with Uncle Jug. They had rented a room from Uncle Jug, but she was down at the house all the time.

 

Teresa Roberson  

So, she would just walk down...

 

Velma Roberson  

Floyd may have drove her there or something.

 

Teresa Roberson  

But he would drop her off when he was going to work?

 

Velma Roberson  

Oh, I don't know how it happened. I just know we were together a lot. We learned to drive together. Then when I got 16, I told Mother I wanted to get my license. She said she was not gonna sign for me. I asked Daddy. Daddy say, "Sure. I'll sign for you." Clarence told me to take his car to get my license on because he had the power steering. 

 

Uncle Clarence was Mom’s third oldest brother.

 

But I had never driven his car or practice on his car. So, when I got down there, I'm turning it too much because it's power steering. I passed the written test, but I couldn't pass the parking test. So, he told me to go back and practice some more and come back and all I'd have to do is the parking test. So, I say, "You know what? I practiced on Daddy's truck. I'm going down there with Daddy's truck." So, Daddy took me down on his truck. Passed it right away. No problem. Because that's what I've been practicing on.

 

Teresa Roberson  

Back in the day, that they have you parallel parking and three point turns and all that? 

 

Velma Roberson  

Parallel parking and I had to take them around the corner, around block and come back. He saw that I did well, stopping at the stop sign and all this. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

Why didn't Mama Bea want you to drive? 

 

My mother’s mother, Beatrice Strange didn’t want to be called “grandma,” hence the nickname, “Mama Bea.”

 

Velma Roberson  

She thought I was too young. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

Not knowing you had been driving since you were 13.

 

Velma Roberson  

Oh, 13, girl, I started at eight. I was getting on Daddy's tractor. I was so little, my weight, me sitting down, I couldn't even mash the clutch in. I would have to stand up and bounce on that clutch to get the clutch to go down on the tractor. So, yeah, I was driving that at eight. A lot of older men had bought tractors for their farm. They wanted everybody to get together at Mr. Ed King's place and go out in the field with their tractors. So, when their sons drove the tractors out in the field and everything and say, "Daddy, can I get on your tractor?" So, Dad said yeah, so I was the only girl out there on a tractor with all those guys in the field. I can't remember what kind of thing it was. But Mr. Ed King had everybody that had a tractor to come to Logtown.

 

Teresa Roberson  

What did you like better a tractor, a truck, a car or riding a horse?

 

Velma Roberson  

Hey, back in the day, I liked them all. I could get away from Mother and I could get on the horseback. But if mother was around, I couldn't get on the horseback. She didn't allow me. Daddy let me do anything I wanted to do. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

When you rode horseback, did you ride sidesaddle? 

 

Velma Roberson  

What you mean "sidesaddle?" 

 

Teresa Roberson  

Both legs on one side of the horse.

 

Velma Roberson  

 Oh no! Girl, I had to put my legs on both side that horse. Make sure my butt stayed up there. I was little. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

Back in that time, they used to say a proper lady, rode sidesaddle with both legs... 

 

Velma Roberson  

I was a kid. I was not a lady. I did good to keep both legs, one on one side, one on the other.

 

Teresa Roberson  

Did you ever ride a mule or you just worked the mule or nothing? No mules whatsoever? 

 

Velma Roberson  

Oh, no. It's just... whatever Daddy had there and I wanted to ride the horseback because my brothers did it. So, I wanted to do it too.

 

Teresa Roberson  

So, you had a horse and tractor, but no bicycle.

 

Velma Roberson  

I never owned a bicycle. I owned tricycles until I outgrew them, but I never own a bicycle. But I rode my brothers’ bikes. When they weren't own it, I would jump on it. So, mother never said anything, but she wouldn't buy me a bike.

 

Teresa Roberson  

On those country roads, you were riding a bike?

 

Velma Roberson  

We had like a dirt road going from our house up to Cat's. Herbert's house wasn't there. 

 

Cathleen Strange Wilson, AKA “Cat,” was one Mom’s first cousins and Uncle Herbert was Mom’s fourth oldest  brother.

 

So, there was a path going from our house to Cat's and I'd ride that bike going up that way and turn around and come back. So, we had all that space to turn around and come back. Same with the car. We would drive the car, like up to where Herbert lives now and turn around and come back.

 

Teresa Roberson  

So, you have been driving a vehicle since you were eight. 

 

Velma Roberson  

Yeah. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

And you are 83. 

 

Velma Roberson  

That's it. 

 

Quick calculation here: If Mom’s now 83 and started driving when she was 8, then she’s been driving some form of vehicle for 75 years.

 

Teresa Roberson  

And you are still driving. 

 

Velma Roberson  

Still driving. I don't know how much longer I'll drive, but I'll drive ‘til my mind tells me it's time to stop.

 

Teresa Roberson  

You think your mind's going to tell you that or we have to tell you?

 

Velma Roberson  

My mind would tell me.

 

Teresa Roberson  

But you're hard-headed.

 

Velma Roberson  

No, I'm not. You just think that way. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

You've been hard-headed since you were a child, though. You would ask your mom and then go to your dad because you knew your dad was nicer. 

 

Velma Roberson  

I know. My dad let me do anything I wanted to do.  

 

Teresa Roberson  

So, what's gonna happen when I see that I need to take the keys. You're gonna give them to me?

 

Velma Roberson  

If I feel like I should.

 

Teresa Roberson  

So, that means "no."

 

Velma Roberson  

No, if I feel like I need to stop driving, I will.

 

Teresa Roberson  

And how will you know when you need to stop driving?

 

Velma Roberson  

If you’ve been driving, most of you years, and all of a sudden, you forget the direction, it's time to give it up. Just like my uncle, mother's brother, Charlie, in Pittsburgh. He decided he was going to the store one day. Went to the store, came back, got in the car, started cussing and fussing. Somebody stole his damned steering wheel. Good as he'd been to everybody around there. Then, he discovered he was in the backseat. So, he drove the car home. Told his son, "Come get this damn car. I ain't driving no more." So, that's the way I'm going to be. 

 

Teresa Roberson  

Well, thank you, Mom, for sharing your driving stories with me.