“Mom, I saw that.”
“You saw nothing.”
“Oh, yes I did.”
“How could you see that when you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road?”
“They won’t reach.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young man. You know what I mean. Driving is serious business and you need to pay attention to what you’re doing at all times.”
I released my right-hand death-grip off the door handle and realized I hit that point in life when I’m seeing my fellow Bus Stop mommies and daddies in a whole different way — in the passenger’s seat. With their Learner’s Permit-toting 15-year-old behind the wheel. Of the family car. On an actual road. With the engine running and vehicle making forward progress.
I copped a ride to the book club with Lilly the other night and sure enough, there they were — fingernail marks in the passenger door handle of her SUV.
My mother still clutches the dashboard, jams her foot into the floor and sucks wind through her teeth when I drive. One more time and I’m going to remind her just who it was that backed up her Cadillac into a South Florida mail box. And I don’t own a Cadillac or live in South Florida.
It’s easy to spot permit-toting drivers on the road. First, there’s always an adult in the front passenger seat. It’ll be the car in front of you accelerating oh-so-slowly out of the red light turned green… the SUV actually slowing for the neighborhood speed bumps… the minivan using its turn signal three streets in advance.
These will be the same teenage drivers who, six months from now, will peel out of the intersection like their blue jeans were on fire… go airborne over the speed bumps in the 25 mph zone and won’t know how to spell “turn signal” let alone use it. My son, of course, will be the exception to this theory. Really. He will be. Or I won’t feed him.
But first the driver’s test must be passed before they can drive alone. This causes extreme stress, worry, sweating, nail-biting and tremors. The kids might get nervous too. Another mom and I bonded instantly as together, our children walked out the DMV doors to take their driving tests, accompanied by adult strangers, who, for the past sixteen years, we told them to avoid and never ever get in a car with.
When they returned smiling, my new best mom friend and I wiped our sweaty palms, hugged, and congratulated each other. We then handed the keys to our newly licensed teenagers, instructed them to drive us to the grocery store, where we bought 13 cases of generic macaroni and cheese, then swung by the mail box and dropped in the first triple-increased auto insurance payment.
Despite the fear, expensive insurance and realization of just exactly how old I am, there’s a definite upside to having a teenage driver: My prayer life increased significantly.
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at www.busstopmommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)
