Women Should Neither Vote nor Drive
A slightly humorous and informative explanation of why my grandmother refused to drive a car.
© 2025 Stephen W. Moore. All rights reserved.

*Grandma in her younger days.
My grandmother was a firm believer that women should not be allowed to vote or drive. When she passed away at the age of 81, she had never voted once in any election: federal, state, local, or even in her church. She would often make note of the fact that she believed only men should be allowed to vote; they were the only ones who had the knowledge and fortitude to be able to make such important decisions. She also believed that only those of the opposite sex had the skills, abilities and knowledge necessary to operate a motorized vehicle. In her lifetime, she only drove a car one time, and that is the focus of our story.

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My grandmother had 12 or 13 brothers and sisters; it all depends on who is telling the story. She was either the second or third from last, again it depends on who is narrating the tale. Nevertheless, she was one of the youngest and thus was heavily influenced by the elder children. The problem with learning from older siblings instead of directly from a parent figure can lead to some poor decision making. When a parent teaches, whether by direct instruction or by the examples they set, they impart knowledge based on experience and responsibility. A sibling will usually have very little experience, and almost no sense of responsibility. A parent teaches with an implication of necessity, protection and foreboding; an older child will teach with a feeling of “this is fun” emanating from their instruction. And now that a backdrop has been set, we will begin our story.

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My grandmother, her parents, and their other innumerable progeny running around all lived together in a tiny shack at the bottom of a hill. At the top of this hill sat another somewhat larger and nicer shack; but a hovel nonetheless. Whether or not this home included any other children or not is not within the scope of my knowledge, being that all this took place a half century before I made my presence known on this old earth.

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Life on the farm was simple and monotonously regular. During the school year the children trotted off to school, returned home to do homework and finish their chores; the older ones taking care of and instructing the younger ones in the day-to-day life on the croft. Summertime was filled with more chores, but instead of books and pedagogy, their free time was occupied with exciting extracurricular exploits such as tag, hide-and-go-seek, swimming in the pond and various other activities they could conjure up.

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My grandmother only went through the third grade, and it is doubtful any of the other members of the fairer sex went much further than that. Girls were only sent to school long enough to get the basic instructions in reading, writing and the basic math skills they might need in their future occupations as wife and mother. After that they would spend their time learning the more important skills they would need in their future jobs: cooking, cleaning and taking care of children. Thus, without the need to spend the next few years learning tasks in school that she would never have a need for (and as one of the younger offspring there was very little need to spend time watching after her younger fellow broodlings), my grandmother had some time to kill in her childhood. This usually meant getting into mischief in one way or another.

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Our story now takes us back to the little shack on the hill above my great-grandparents' equally dilapidated dwelling. There sat, next to the front door of the neighbors’ house, a wonder of the modern era, a Ford Model A. Now, I do not know for sure that it was a Model A since all the details of this story have not been retained as it has been passed down from generation to generation. It then becomes necessary to fill in some of the blanks in order to fulfill my obligations as a storyteller; although it would not be so bad if the readers themselves decided to fill in the blanks by processing information using their own imaginations. For the purpose of this story, I will make up my own description of the automobile, but you may take the liberty of drawing your own conclusions as to what type of car it was, and what its descriptives were. I will maintain that it was a black 1930’s era Ford Model A.