Our first time in the parking lot, his shiny new driver’s permit in his pocket. He gets into the driver’s seat and says, “Now what?”
I show him where to put the key; how to put his foot on the break; when to turn the key.
“No. Your right foot goes on the break!” This is going to be a long morning.
“Mom, should I be able to see over the steering wheel?”
My son is short. We need to adjust all the settings so he can “see over the steering wheel.” I should have done that first. When I drive someone else’s car, the first thing I do is adjust the seat and the mirrors.
I’m starting to see that I should have prepared for this moment.
So I explain how to reposition the rearview mirror and the side mirrors. And I explain what part of the car you should be able to see through the mirrors.
We get into a bit of a groove in the parking lot. Accelerating. Breaking. I’m narrating the whole time: Use the right side mirror to see if there are any cars. Back up and look through the rearview mirror.
After a while, this first time driver is starting to look like he could one day be competent. And I am starting to return to a normal breathing pattern.
Until I let him drive home on the streets. It’s a one minute drive. One minute of heart palpitations and holding my breath. One terrifying minute.
| [adrotate banner=”76″] |
My foot instinctively slams on the brake. My body twists to help the car veer away from the curb. I gasp (audibly) as the car takes a wide turn. My heart pounds.
I’d rather be anywhere than in the passenger seat with my 15-1/2-year-old.
Every minute riding “shotgun” is terrifying. I want to be a supportive parent and let my son know that he is doing a great job, but then this yelp escapes from my mouth. “Watch out,” I scream.
Then my son yells back, “What?” The tension is palpable.
In reality, the problem is not my son’s; he is doing a great job. The problem is mine.
I should not be teaching my son how to drive.
With each new driving session, I enter the car committed to a new sense of calm. Almost instantaneously, the calm turns to panic as I my body tenses and my mind thinks that I am going to die. I wonder to myself, “Who had the ingenious idea that parents should teach their children to drive?”
Please Help Me.
