Ed Hixon, or "Steady Ed" as he was fondly called by his students, was my drivers education instructor. Mr. Hixon is one of many teachers who left their imprints upon me. Over the years, there is a common joke in my family when I see a driver not following certain rules of courtesy or failing to make an appropriate left turn, I will quip, "He (she) obviously did not have Steady Ed as a driving teacher." My son, when he was learning to drive, heard some of Ed's words of wisdom on proper driving techniques.

Mr. Hixon, like many teachers, had a mystique that had grown around him over the decades. One of the legends was that his limp was caused from a case of polio years before. Rumors also circulated that he was a minor league baseball player in his youth. How the limp and ball playing came together were never solved for none of us were able to verify either story. However, one fact was true, he would stutter when he became excited. My occasion to witness this phenomenon came one sunny day when three of us, along with Mr. Hixon, were on the road for our daily 60-minute lesson. (In my youth, driving lessons were a high school course elective and occurred during the school day.) Sharon (not her real name) was driving her 20-minute session. Whenever, Sharon drove, we became nervous. Actually, my buddy and I, who were in the back seat, always fidgeted nervously because we were never sure we would walk away alive. Driving and Sharon mixed like oil and water. We were on a country road approaching a 15 mph turn, and Ed calmly said to Sharon, "Put your foot on the brake and slow down." Then the stutter began, "Sl..sl...sl.." as we were headed for the ditch at about 30 mph. Thank God for Mr. Hixon's quick reflects between grabbing the steering wheel and hitting the auxiliary brake. We went on to live another day, though Ed could hardly talk for a few minutes. I am not sure Sharon ever passed her driving test.

Besides driving, Mr. Hixon also taught me another important lesson. He was a strict disciplinarian during classroom instructional sessions. One day, my friend kept poking me. Finally, I hit his hand away. Of course, I was sp

otted, and disciplined verbally in strong terms in front of the class. My face turned beet red as I was not a trouble maker and was also easily embarrassed. I was obviously bummed out but said nothing as I anxiously awaited the end of class.

The next day, before formal class started, Mr. Hixon looked at me and said before the whole class that he had been made aware that I was a victim of circumstances and publicly apologized. I was floored. But many decades later, I vividly remember his public admittance of error and his apology before my peers.

Thus, Steady Ed not only taught me the rules of the road but also an important life lesson. A true man (woman) should never be afraid to admit an error. That admittance only increased my respect for him.

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