By Neal Wooten
I grew up on a farm on Sand Mountain, so I had to learn to drive at an early age. I didn’t have a choice. It started with a tractor and progressed to old farm trucks. When I was 13, Dad drove a truck for Southwest Motor Freight in Chattanooga. We only had one car, so I’d ride with him and bring the car back.
I couldn’t wait until my 16th birthday so I could finally become a legal driver. I even practiced parallel parking. I could never figure out why I needed that skill living on the mountain, but you never know when you might have to park between a bale of hay and a dead possum. I was ready until all my older cousins bestowed upon me the same one-word warning – “Coffey.”
Lavoid Coffey was an Alabama State Trooper for 28 years, and for half of those years, he was the driver’s license examiner for DeKalb and Jackson Counties. His reputation cast a long shadow. The stories had me nervous before I got there.
I used a cousin’s 1975 Nova because no car we ever owned had everything working at one time. I went inside and signed up, and waited. Finally, I saw him walking toward me, and I realized it wasn’t just his reputation that cast a long shadow. He was huge. I was only 5’4” at that time, so he towered over me.
I understood right away why people were intimidated. He was serious, no-nonsense, and all business. I’ve always used humor to connect with people, but Trooper Coffey was having none of it. When he had me back up a hill, I said, “I can do the whole test backward if you want.” Not even a smile. He just pointed straight ahead. He never reacted to any of my jokes.
When we pulled back into the parking area, I was sure I had failed. But Coffey just handed me the sheet of paper and said, “100.” I couldn’t believe it. I looked up at him, smiled, and said, “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” And guess what? He roared with laughter, patted me on the shoulder, and said, “You’re a funny guy.”
That’s when I realized he was a real person who happened to have a serious job. And generations of kids became responsible drivers because of his dedication. Mr. Coffey is now 83, and I hope he knows how many lives he touched. He’s currently in rehab at Collinsville Nursing Home, where I’m sure he’s shaking his head at the ones in wheelchairs going too fast.
So, Mr. Coffey, please get better and take it easy. You’ve earned it.
