Driving

Once you overcome the life-sucking panic that accompanies your child acquiring a driver's license, you eventually relax enough to enjoy a little freedom.

The baby has been driving for a couple of years and I must admit he's a pretty good driver. (I'm sure he's much more cautious when I'm in the car.) At first he mowed over a mailbox and totaled a car. Since then, he seems to have mastered the machinery.

I couldn't get too frustrated with him. I recall wrapping my parents' car around one of those cement poles at the gas station. (Their car was the size of a U-boat.) I've backed into other people. The husband regularly bashes into someone -- usually someone parked in our driveway. A couple of months ago, he backed into one of the workout girls' cars. When we were remodeling our house, he backed into the painter's truck.

When I ride with my mother, I tend to say, "Giddy-up!" She's a very cautious driver. Her routine while she's trying to park causes my life to flash before my eyes. (Flash is too strong -- I have time to relive it moment by moment.)

The oldies recently bought a new car. She whips that sucker in and out of any situation. Of course, she totaled their last car. I get a little nervous because she's high strung and he's blind, but I am impressed with her ability to find her way around. I type out directions for her and just like Hansel and Gretel, she finds her way home.

Once they moved here, she needed to get a driver's license in this state. She read the manual repeatedly. I took her to take the written test. I told her to take her time. (Oops!) The end result (two hours later) is an Indiana driver's license that doesn't expire for four years. She'll be 88-years old. She only missed one correct answer and was quite proud of herself. Even with my reservations, I was also proud of her. I still won't ride with her. If we go somewhere together, I drive.

Sometimes, the husband drives them around. Most of the time, he's out driving a golf ball.