“Can I drive to scouts, mom?” Andrew asked with a big grin on his face. He knows I’m nervous about it, but he asks me anyway.
We are teaching our son how to drive. Correction – my husband is teaching him. I’m usually sitting in the backseat with my eyes looking down at my phone the entire time. I am too nervous to watch.
This feeling I have has absolutely nothing to do with how he drives. He is actually a natural at it and, I’m totally impressed. His athletic abilities give him fantastic hand/eye coordination, impeccable reaction time and good instincts. He has only been driving for a short while, but my husband feels entirely comfortable with him at the wheel. They have even ventured onto the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but not with me in the car.
I’m not the most confident driver in the world, which probably fuels my anxiety over him driving. So, when Andrew asked if he could drive my car to his scout meeting last night, it took me a while to agree.
I had questions. Many questions.
Have you driven in the dark yet?
Are you tired? You’ve been up since 5 am, you know.
It’s getting late. Shouldn’t I just drive so we can get you there on time?
He had reasonable answers for everything. His calm demeanor and adult-like patience were meant to reassure me as if I were the child and he the parent. I handed him my keys, and he ran to the driver’s side of the car before I could change my mind.
I watch him adjust the seat to fit his 5′ 8″ body. He makes a small production of adjusting the mirrors so that I see he is thinking of everything. The four-mile drive to the scout meeting took us through our neighborhood, down one side street, and one main road.
As we turned onto the first street, he forgot to put on his turn signal. I made sure to point it out. He laughed and probably rolled his eyes, but it was dark, so I didn’t see. Did I mention it was dark out?
Further into the drive, he looked over and casually reminded me of the absence of the brake pedal on the passenger side.
“I’m aware of that,” I smiled. “I like to press my foot against the glove compartment sometimes. Okay?”
The seven minute long car ride was a success. He likes to chat while driving, which made the trip go a little faster. As he talked about school and friends, I listened and told myself he would not be distracted by our conversation. I drive and talk to people all the time. This was no different.
We made it to our destination safe and sound, as I knew we would. He congratulated me on not freaking out along the way. I give a quick thanks to God and switched places with Andrew. I promised him I would let him again, and maybe this time with fewer questions beforehand.
It’s a process. 🙂
In Steve Martin’s autobiography, “Born Standing Up,” he writes about his love of comedy and magic. He spent so much time as a young man observing the great comedians of his time – Jack Benny, Laurel and Hardy – before he finally became a legend himself. He found his own teachers and mentors wherever he went, who would cheer him on. He discovered books that opened up a whole new world of showmanship and performance art.
This past August, we moved our daughter into her dorm room and set her up for her freshman year at college. I remember thinking that her entire senior year was a complete blur to me. Every weekend was filled with Class of ’19 activities. She attended the last homecoming game, the last Coronation Ball, and the last winter concert. Not to mention senior prom, a trip to Disney World, senior cut day, college visits, and so on and so on.