(rlaugh) That's funny! When my dad taught me, I was 16 and driving a damn big moving truck (thinking it was 30-ish feet), loaded with all the worldly possesions of close family friends, from the prairies to the West Coast. All I remember him saying, often, under his breath was, "Oh no. Oh no. Oh gawd," then louder, "you're doing good, son. You just need to slow down a bit going through the Rockies." Then after missing a shift and trying to slow our decent in a near-runaway situation, "Oh. Well, this isn't good. Stop at the nearest pub - I need a break." He hardly ever drank, except on that trip
Bart