I’ll admit it. I was pleased as punch a few months ago when, on the day of his 14th birthday, The Boy emerged from the cubicle at the Airdrie Registries triumphant.
He had passed his learner’s licence test. Exuding brilliance and ready to hit the highway, he proudly placed his driving papers in his pocket and set out for the open road. Well, not really the open road, he made it across the street until, in a fit of fear, I insisted he pull over and let me drive.
Since that day I have been asking myself, “Who in their right mind thought that 14 years of age was a good time to start driving?”
In an effort to provide The Boy with as much experience as possible, we try to give him the opportunity to drive as often as our patience and nerves will allow.
Handing over the wheel to someone who can’t remember to do his chores or homework is a tall order for a paranoid control freak like me but perhaps this experience is teaching me some valuable lessons.
For example, I’ve learned that no matter how hard you push with your right foot onto the floor of the passenger side of the vehicle you will not slow down or stop. Leaning your body to the left or right to avoid side swiping the vehicle next to you is just as ineffective.
Only last week, I learned that screaming, “We’re all going to die,” serves as a distraction to young drivers and this phrase should only be used when absolutely necessary.
Grabbing the wheel from the passengers seat is also a no-no, regardless of how tempting it might be.
It’s also very important to avoid sipping on hot liquids when teaching a teenager to drive as the frequent and sudden starts and stops can prove to be extremely painful.
To a new driver, meridians can be confusing and drive-thrus should be avoided at all times.
When it comes to driving and genetics, don’t presume that your own keen sense of depth perception has been passed down to your children, every time we roll into the garage I know my side mirrors might never be the same.
To our surprise we have also learned that The Boy has absolutely no sense of direction. We have come to never assume he knows where he’s going.
But we have also learned that directions must be given at the appropriate time, too early and they will be forgotten, too late and we risk being rear-ended or side swiping another car.
In order to run a little damage control before setting out with The Boy in the driver’s seat, we always go over a few things, reminding him that stop signs and speed limits are not merely suggestions and yellow lights don’t mean “step on it.”
We reiterate that he cannot drive and play DJ with the radio at the same time and of course cell phones and iPods are strictly forbidden.
It’s taken a couple months but I think he’s finally got it.
It doesn’t feel like that long ago when I proudly drove out of the registry parking lot in that 1989 Buick LeSabre with my mom in the passenger’s seat for the first time.
I was certain my driving didn’t cause her the level of anxiety, fear and panic that The Boy has caused us, to be sure I recently asked her about it.
When she finally stopped her hysterical laughter she simply reminded me that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
She reassured me in a way that only a mother can, that with time, experience and a few bottles of Grecian formula, things are sure to improve.
