California People
California Chauffeur Gets Respect
By C. MacDonald
Yesterday's Rose Parade in Pasadena made me
recall how my mom and dad—who had not met
yet—both went to that world-famous event in
1937. While earning money for college, my future
father was a private chauffeur for a well-to-do
woman in that spectacular city. She had insisted
that he always wear a black hat and the lady
always sat in the back seat.
In these days of chauffeurs, taxis, Uber and
Lyft, it's not unusual to see adults being
driven around town. But when I was growing up
years ago, it was a pretty rare and neat
experience spotting a chauffeur making his or
her rounds.
Chauffeurs usually were dressed-up,
distinguished-looking gentlemen (or women),
which made me even more shocked when I was once
mistaken for one in South Lake Tahoe.
The incident started when I was driving a
carload of relatives around, showing them the
beautiful sites of this city at Lake Tahoe. At
the conclusion of the excursion, I dropped them
off at their respective motels. However, my dear
mom wanted to stay in the car and spend more
time with me, while I went to get gas.
So I drove into a service station with my mother
sitting proudly in the backseat. A smiling
attendant came out (yes, there really were
service attendants back then) and seemed honored
by our presence. Perhaps my brown hat and coat,
which just happened to match the car's color,
had something to do with it. He ran around and
quickly pumped the gas, cleaned the windows and
even checked the tire air pressure.
Next, my mom had a question about a "dinner for
customers" sign, so I stuck my head out the
window and said, "The lady would like to inquire
about the dinner." He graciously explained how
you earned one.
At the end of the fill-up, the happy attendant
accepted my cash and handed me a receipt. I
tipped my hat and drove off in style. Looking in
the rear view mirror, I saw other employees at
the station stopping their work to observe our
departure.
At first, I was a bit perplexed and could not
figure out all the interest. Then my mother and
I suddenly put it all together and
simultaneously broke out in laughter. I must
have been mistaken as a professional chauffeur!
"Onward, James!" she bellowed as I took her back
to the motel, feeling much more distinguished
than ever before.