Driving as a young man and the Church are deeply intertwined in my memory. My father taught me to drive in a 1968 VW bus while we waited for Sunday school to start. This was back in the day when we went to church three times on Sunday, first for priesthood, then Sunday school, then back in the afternoon for Sacrament meeting. We lived about a 30 minute drive from the chapel, and only had 90 minutes between the end of priesthood meeting and the start of Sunday School. So my mom and younger siblings would get a ride, and after I was 12 my father and I would drive to an empty parking lot by the church and just park. I would read magazines and dad would usually prepare some lesson he had to give. My dad taught me to drive in this parking lot, complete with a manual transmission.

My first time on the road was with an uncle in Idaho Falls, who let me drive his car around the temple there. Then while visiting my grandparents in Star Valley WY, I was driving on the back roads at 14, which was common in rural farming communities.

I turned 16 in the summer between my sophomore and junior years, and on my birthday my mom drove me to the DMV and I took my driving test. I passed, and have never looked back. While I never had a car of my own while living at home, we did have two cars, and I became the church designated driver. We had a chapel much closer by this time, but still a ten min drive. So I drove to early morning seminary that started at 6 am, I drove to MIA on Wed nights, and to church dances and other activities, hauling younger siblings and neighbors to and from church. Probably 90% of my driving in those years before I left on my mission where church related.

I was pulled over for speeding on New Years Eve heading to the Stake Center for the dance, with my date and another couple. My father has a less common first name that I have as a middle name. When the officer looked at my license (the same one you see above), he said “are you Bishop Bill Sr’s son?” I said yes, and he said he was a good man, and he let me go with a warning. To this date I have never gotten a moving violation (parking tickets are another matter!).

I have so many fond memories driving to and from Church activities with my friends; Lance going around a curve so fast in his parents big Cadillac that it scraped the asphalt as it tilted and sent sparks flying, Ron in his 66 Ford Ranchero sliding around on the unpaved road in front of the church when they re-paved it. Or Phil in his Triumph Spitfire driving on the canal banks of Central California.

Do you have any memories of driving to church?

(bonus points if you know the title song reference without looking it up. )