Skip to content
Call Us Today! 212-533-4646 | MON-FRI 12PM - 4PM (EST)
DONATE
SUBSCRIBE
Search for:
About Us
Publications
FAQ
Annual Report 2023
Annual Report 2022
Annual Report 2021
Initiatives
Advocate
Educate
Cultivate
Care
News
Newsletters
Sign Up For Our Newsletter
Join UNWLA
Become a Member
Volunteer With Us
Donate to UNWLA
Members Portal
Calendar
Shop to Support Ukraine
Search for:
Print
Print Page
Download
Download Page
Download Right Page
Open
1
2-3
4-5
6-7
8-9
10-11
12-13
14-15
16-17
18-19
20-21
22-23
24-25
26-27
28-29
30-31
32-33
34-35
36-37
38-39
40
THE CAR by D.M.Z. From the diary of a Ukrainian Housewife My marriage vows were to love, honor and drive the car for the rest of my life. I married a “good Ukrainian boy”, as my father called him, and we began to build our nest in a four room apartment near my husband’s place of work. My husband’s honor dictated that I should not work, but raise a family and keep the home fires burning. My own family had never owned a car because my father, having fallen off a bicycle in his youth back in his native Ukraine, refused to drive anything mechanical or motorized. And of course, he would never think of encouraging a woman to do it. Thus at the time of my wedding, I did not know how to drive. The car was my husband’s dowry. He pampered it, repairing it himself if necessary to save money. He was not too anxious to let me fool with it. But he soon realized that taking me here, there and everywhere was not what a “good Ukrainian boy” of a husband wanted to do. It was for practical reasons that he decided to share his vehicular domain with me in lieu of chauffer- ing me around and thus decided to teach me to drive. For a couple of Saturdays, he gave me driving les sons while at the same time unveiling a side of himself which I had never before or since seen. He anticipated that I would ruin the starter, transmission, tires of any other part of the car by my ”baba” driving. And I admit that at first I had some mishaps. I soon realized that it was wiser to stop at stop signs and I discovered why the little mirror in the front was called the ’’rear view mirror” — the man in the car behind me explained it to me when I backed into him. But there are other things, such as rear-ending a plane, that could not have been my fault. One evening during one of our driving lessons, my husband yelled out to me, “Watch the plane!” ’’What plane?” I asked. ’’The one in front of you,” was the reply. It was perfectly simple; we lived behind the Martin-Marieta Plant in Maryland — the company manufactured planes and was also my husband’s employer. But how was I to know that they drove rather than flew planes in my back yard. Planes were made to fly and had that plane been in its proper place, I would not have hit it. After recovering from the plane incident, I was doing quite well with my lessons and the day of judgement finally arrived. I was going to show my father that a “baba” could do something he couldn’t do. And I was going to show my husband that a “baba” could do something he could do. We lived in Maryland at the time, and Maryland, as most other states do, had a pol icy that U turns and parking were the most important elements of driving. My three point turn was OK, but parallel parking I just couldn’t manage. My verbatim knowledge of the driver’s manual did not impress the testing officer or offset this shortcoming and he wrote the horrible words on my application — “issue another learner’s permit”. After that I went through training more rigorous that that of any Olympique athlete and when I passed the driver’s test, and learned that Maryland issued a driver a license for life, I was delighted that I would never have to face this ordeal again. But when we moved to Pennsylvania, it was a Pennsylvania State trooper who informed me, after stopping me for a minor speeding violation, that the law in Maryland had changed and that my lifetime license was technically invalid. He told me that he could arrest me and that’s the moment I began to cry and the moment I learned a lesson for life. I eventually got my Pennsylvania license, but it was tears that had kept me from being arrested on that occasion and tears that got me out of other driving jams. The cops were sympathetic. It was only my hus band who was not impressed. Yet through the years, I became an excellent driver. At that time, a wife who did not work had to be the fam ily chauffer until, it was safe to let the kids drive them selves. I think back on the preschool years when I drove some six restless toddlers to the Ukrainian nursery school twice a week. The kids were scratched up by each other, but the car did not have a mark on it. Then there were the annual summer pilgrimages to Plast camp all over the United States. One time I had to unload the entire camping gear of four kids on the shoulder of a highway to get to the spare tire, which I finally changed with the help of my twelve-year-old. During one of these trips, a thirty inch aluminum salad bowl fell off a catering truck and flew across my hood. By this time, I no longer panicked at such things. My only thought was that I should stop and pick up the bowl — we could use it at the church. My biggest thrill, however, was driving 100 m.p.h. through an Indian reservation somewhere in Montana. My husband, who was sleeping beside me in the pas senger seat, had told me that the Indians did not give speeding tickets. I didn’t even believe there were any Indians on that reservation. All I had seen for the last forty miles was tumbleweed. It was one of those rare moments in life — either now or never. I said to myself, ”OK!” drop that lead foot, baba, and go!” It has been over thirty years now and I have the best driving record in the family. I also have fantasies of a dream car, not a BMW or a Cadillac or some custom stainless steel sportscar. I dream of having a yellow VW convertible, a little yellow BUG with a canvas roof. And guess what — they are going to be making them again. So if you see one coming down a highway, honk once if you’re a Ukie and twice if you’re a Ukie "baba”. Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
Page load link
Go to Top
1 
2-3 
4-5 
6-7 
8-9 
10-11 
12-13 
14-15 
16-17 
18-19 
20-21 
22-23 
24-25 
26-27 
28-29 
30-31 
32-33 
34-35 
36-37 
38-39 
40 
