Daddio

It’s amazing to me that you see so many adult drivers on the road.  Why should it be unusual for capable, mature grown-ups to operate motor vehicles?  Well, if those adults are parents who taught their teenagers to drive, I bet most of them swore off getting into a car ever again.  I guess the old adage applies: If you fall off a horse, suppress the intense urge to scream, and get back on.

Teaching your kid to drive can be a traumatic experience.  I’ve done it three times. And all of my hair has fallen out.  You bet your sweet Edsel that the first experience contributed to the second.

It began with my son.  In the first excursion on the road he drove cautiously and concienciously.  That was the last time.  He gained a smidgeon of confidence and suddenly he’s NASCAR-qualified.  He actually drove below hurricane-force wind speed, but just enough over the speed limit for me to bug him repeatedly, “Watch your speed”, “You’re going too fast”, “Slow down. Slow down! SLOW DOWN!”!!  Teaching my kids to drive has led me to say everything three times with an increasing urgency. “Pass the butter. Pass the butter! PASS THE BUTTER!”.

My most fearful moments with my son behind the wheel came when he would apply his brakes at the last minute. “Stop. Stop! STOP!, I exclaimed as he hurtled towards the rear of a luxury SUV, only to stop in a whiplash-inducing flash seemingly inches from its pristine, gleaming bumper.

My son has been driving now for six years.  Accident free and with only one ticket.  Not that I condone it, but he can drive while multi-tasking - talking on his cell phone, downing a soda, fiddling with the radio, and clipping his toenails all at the same time.  I’m just saying he has mad driving skills.

I began my daughter’s instruction in the meandering parking lot of an office complex on the weekends.  After awhile we both got bored circling the perimeter at 15 miles per hour.  I allowed her more freedom navigating a course around the lot. Her course sometimes included going up over the curb while turning corners.  It is hard, at first, to tell where the edge of the road is and where your wheels are in relation to the edge.  “You’re getting too close.  You’re too close!  TOO CLOSE“!  Whump.  “You found it”.  My daughter possesses a spotless driving record and the tires are relatively scuff-free.

My youngest daughter still drives with her learner’s permit, but should be getting her full license this year.  After teaching her siblings, I confess my patience had worn thin.  I felt my chest tighten in anxiety just getting into the car. “Adjust the mirror. Adjust the mirror!  ADJUST THE MIRROR! Sorry, sweetie”.   So her mom took her out on the road more than me…and they did fine together, although my wife complained about a sore leg from pressing the imaginary brake to the floor.  A routine condition for the parent in the passenger seat.

Teaching your teenager to drive is a parental rite of passage, but I’m glad to be able to turn them over to the professionals for comprehensive Driver’s Ed.  Have you ever noticed how many of the instructors are bald?

I welcome your comments.

Daddio

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