by Focus
© 2000 Focus, all rights reserved
When a child reaches 15 or 16 in our society, it is an exciting time! That child is about to experience a rite of passage, and hopes to emerge on the other side more independent and free, nearly an adult.
For that child's parents, it is an exciting time too. Their little baby is about to experience a rite of passage, and the parents hope to emerge on the other side with life, relationships, and transportation intact.
That hope is not always completely fulfilled.
In California some legislators (who must have narrowly survived the experience of teaching their teenaged offspring to drive) recently passed a law requiring that every teen undergo 6 hours of driving instruction under the tutelage of a professional driving instructor, before they can drive with another responsible adult by their side.
I believe that was a good and wise law. On my first driving trip with my daughter I blessed those legislators after every scream! And I vowed never to accept a job as a driving instructor.
It was after my daughter had received her 6 hours of instruction that I first buckled myself into the passenger seat beside her. She smiled brightly at me, I said a quick prayer, and we sallied forth to endanger the public. Though I am not usually a nag, I instantly found myself pointing out rather obvious facts, facts I had previously had full confidence she understood.
"Our lane is over HERE!" I declared as we wobbled out of our driveway and onto the street. "It is best to stay IN our lane," I reminded her. "This is a 45 mile zone. It is best to GO 45 mph!" My hair turned gray the year my daughter was born. I could feel it switching to white as we wove down the road.
"Signal a left turn now," I suggested, "and slow down a little." The windshield wipers came on, and she fumbled for the switch. "Forget them and slow down. SLOW DOWN!!!" Tires squealed, and we dipped two wheels into the ditch as we made the turn, but we did not roll over. I breathed again.
"Since we have completed the turn, it is okay to turn off the windshield wipers," I informed her - and she YELLED at me! At ME, her loving mother!"
Have you ever noticed how close the ditch is to the passenger window? I noticed that several times our first trip. I mentioned that to my daughter. I tried to be gentle in my reminders, but I don't think I succeeded. She gave me that "Oh Mother!" look - and I screamed, "Watch the road!"
It is tempting here to tell how my girl, attempting a left turn, ended up on the right sidewalk. It is tempting to explain how she hit a parked car, and caused two thousand dollars worth of damage to my car. It is tempting to tell how she backed into a car in the parking lot at my work - not just any car, but the car belonging to (and occupied by) my department head. But I'm not going to do that.
I'm just going to warn you. My daughter has her license - and my car - now. She drops me off at work in the mornings, much as I used to drop her off at school. I stand out in the cold, after work, waiting for her to pick me up. I have to ask her permission to borrow my car so I can run a few errands from time to time. My daughter has her license now. Watch out!