Welcome.. thank you so much for clicking over. You can find out about me in the About section or check out the Please Stand By Post. For my first post I thought I’d throw my hat into the ring for “Mother of the Year!” Here’s a Blonde Highlight for you. I realize it’s a long post. But it’s my first official blog. I’m excited.
When I was a teenager I taught a bunch of chicks how to drive a stick shift in my powder blue Volkswagen Beetle. I was cool.
I was such a good teacher that all my friends chose me over actual adults to teach ‘em how to shift gears. I understood the perils of this rite of passage because when my dad taught me he’d sit in the passenger seat and chant dontpoptheclutchdontpoptheclutch… DO NOT POP THE!”
The car would lurch forward and stall. Oops.
“Why did you pop the clutch?” My dad, getting grayer by the mile, would ask this question more to the sky than to me.
I told my dad to relax. I was cool.
Because I was cool at sixteen (teaching other sixteen-year-olds how to drive), I, at 38, was now looking forward to driving with my sixteen-year-old son. He’s completed Drivers Ed classes and has to drive with his parents for 50 hours in order to move to the next “independent” level.
“Well son, here’s the keys.” I get in the passenger seat. My son sits behind the wheel for the first time. I feel like the cool mom, and am sure that my guidance will be benevolent. I will gently guide him. I will encourage and instill confidence. My coolness will ease him into mastery of this new driving responsibility. My assured directives will ensure his safe passage. I am the Zen at the center of my son’s initiation into vehicular adulthood.
This is a classic case of me not knowing myself. At all. (Here’s where it gets ugly so turn away if you’re a sensitve type.)
The Son pulls out into traffic and I scream “SHOLY HIT!!!!” (Letters inverted for your protection.) The kid slams on the break.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU CAN’T STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF A TURN!” I’m shrieking now. He begins again.
“TURN THE WHEEL. MORE! YOU’RE GOING TO HIT THE MAILBOX.” Did they not teach the concept of staying in your lane?
“Mom, I’m not going to…” he calmly reasons with me. At this point I grab the wheel. I gasp, grab and scream — a dozen more times until we get home.
The next time, the boy’s father has a go. Let him handle it.
“So, how did he do?” I ask smugly, as my husband returns calm and nonchalant.
“Fine. He did well.”
“How many times did you have to grab the wheel?” I ask, giving my husband a knowing nod.
“What? None. Why are you grabbing the wheel?” He couldn’t believe it.
So… for the next outing The Son drives the car, the husband relaxes in the passenger seat, and I am relegated to the back.
“HE’S GOING TO GO IN THE DITCH!” I scream while shaking my husband’s headrest.
Son and Husband look back at me from the front seats as if I have blurted something ridiculous like, “I LOVE THAT SQUIRREL’S PAJAMA PANTS!”
“He’s fine. You need to simmer down,” my husband shoots back at me. The two re-focus on the task of driving us to the movie rental place. “AGH” I gasp. This time, I am sure he is going to swerve into oncoming traffic. But again my son and husband show no signs of distress or recognition of impending doom.
Apparently, I’m the only one with a clear-eyed grasp of mortality.
So a few days go by and we’re out, once again, on the highway. They put me in the backseat with a scarf over my head and my fingers jammed in my ears. I am instructed to hum. I do.
The Son does just fine on the highway. We arrive at our destination surprisingly alive. As I understand, it had been a peaceful drive. But — as I remained in my makeshift sensory deprivation tank, we might have plowed through a legion of squirrels in pajamas for all I know.
If anyone knows where we can buy a “Student Rider” sticker to tape over my mouth, let me know. And if you see me riding around town bound and gagged in the backseat, don’t worry, I’m cool.
What do you think? I know too long right? Please feel free to give me any advice you might have for riding with teenagers. I’m oviously in need.
16 Comments
Good Lord, lady, you’re channeling Erma Bombeck! I love it! I haven’t dealt with this subject too much … Aaron does pretty well. (I have three others yet.) The one I’m worried about is Briahna, but she has a few years yet.
Off to watch you with Mary and a pot of coffee in a few minutes …
LOL! I’m so glad you posted this!!! Our son is 14 1/2 and as you know at 14 and 8 months he can start drivers ed. Now we’re in to basketball season, so I’ve bought myself an extra couple months–YEE HA!
I too, consider myself as the “cool mom” and am anxious about having Austin drive. My hubby, not so much. I asked Austin if he’d like to drive last week once we reached our sub division–he said “no” I said “come on, its after 8 and no one is out” So he did and what a fine job he did. My hubby wasn’t so pleased as we pulled in to the driveway (he was putting up the Christmas lights) the look on his face—Yowza! He forgets at 15 I taught him how to drive a stick shift–did you get that, I was 15–no license, no training. But because I paid attention driving with my Dad and he had a stick shift, I knew how to do it. Anywhooo he calmed down once I reassured him I WOULD NOT take him on the main streets.
Great post, so glad your doing it. I’ve thought about it but then I wonder how I’d find the time and I look at the time you post…YIKES!! Keep um coming!
Luna Pier Cook the check is in the mail. I toyed with naming the blog Son of Erma or At Wit’s Beginning. I love her and well, shucks, thank you.
And Befordmomof2 thank you so much for the encouragement. I was actually fine when I took my son go the parking lot and practice. It’s the open road that had me in complete fits. And he’s fine you understand, I’m the nut.
Again thank you both for commenting. If you want more in a similar nutty mom vein check out the link to my sister’s blog Befrazzled especially if you have younger kids. And to think we used to worry about terrible twos right?
RR
OK, that was funny.
But nothing can top my daughter’s first driving lesson.
Her first question, after fingering the steering wheel and checking her makeup in the mirror:
“What are those things down there on the floor? Does one of them make it go?
Too funny! Is that how you got the grey hair Dan? I’m certain I have a new furrow in my brow in recent days.
Ooh, I am sooo excited to see that you’re blogging and will be back to read more!!!
Thanks for sharing your blog with me!
Ok…and love our Dad though I do, I gotta just help you flesh out a little of our Driver’s Ed experience. He usually find the WORST places in Toledo to see how we’d do.
1.) making me do a left turn on to Tremainsvile from Douglas at Wernet’s corner
2.) Navigating the miracle mile parking lot.
Oy.
Sis.
Ha! I can relate to the yeller-in-the-passenger seat experience. I recently learned how to drive a stick, and my brother, the excitable-type, was shouting “you’ve got to commit!” everytime we went to move forward. Which, though I still make fun of him, find myself intoning when the clutch seems to be getting away from me.
The length was just right. As long as it’s engaging, it can be as long as it needs to be.
Thanks Manic. There’s a little Manic in all of us eh? And Stephanie A. I think my sister would agree that “you’ve got to commit!” is something our dad would have said. He’d also say ACCELERATE! And it’s true whatever they said to you when you learned you wind up saying to yourself.
Thanks for your input about about the length, it’s hard to judge. But “Brevity is the soul of wit” as Shakespeare or some dude said. But I tend to ramble.
RR
I CAN”T BELIEVE HE IS 16!!!!! Great read, Bec…great blog! Can’t wait for more. Love from Philly!
Hey Weather Girlie, thank you for the compliment. We alway get each others jokes! And a comment at 3:29, on Thanksgiving. I feel ya.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO EVERYONE WHO MIGHT POP IN TODAY.
RR
Happy Thanksgiving, Rebecca! Hope you had a great day off!
Not sure yet if you saw what’s left of our turkey … 
Wow. I’m almost 18, and I remember my mom doing that exact same thing, though she did grab the wheel. Well anyways, I’ve only been in one accident where I hit someone. It was a paralegal, but she was nice, so no tickets. Anyways, good luck.
Hey Aaron. Just drive with at LEAST a car length maybe two between you and the world. Never trust a blinker. And pull over when your cell phone rings. Also don’t put more teens in the car with you. Also don’t pick up hitch hikers. And a penny saved is a penny earned although copper is worth more than a cent so turn it in for sheet metal.
Oh and thank you for wishing me luck. I wish you continued safe driving. And don’t mind my list. You’re so nice for commenting and here I am lecturing. Mothers, we’re all the same.
RR
I am so late commenting on this … trying to catch up on posts.
But, I must tell you my favorite nugget from my Dad as he taught me to drive stick-shift (at 14, in the farmer’s field next to our house): “Get in there and act like you know what you’re doing!”
Leasa, never too late on Blonde Highlights! I’m all about being way behind. And actually that nugget from your dad seems to work on just about any situation except for maybe surgery.
Glad to hear from you Leasa!!!!
RR
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