Driving Dreams

I think you all know that once the Captain is a fully licensed driver, I intend to never drive again. Instead, he will whisk me from place to place as I chat on my phone or control the radio, and hold the door open for me like a little chauffeur as I dash out of Chapters with an armful of shopping, and take his sisters places while I recline with a new book and a glass of Club Soda on the couch.

However, this plan has recently come under fire for two reasons.

First, he hates driving. We have to force him to practice and he’s a nervous wreck the whole time. It’s getting better, slowly. But I will probably need to wait at least a year until he would even THINK of trying the roundabout that leads out of our subdivision, so unless I want to be swanning around in the three blocks that immediately surround our house – and let me be clear, there are no bookstores there – then I’m out of luck.

Second, I’m a total wreck myself when riding next to him.

Here’s a funny story for my husband to tell at future dinner parties, while everyone sighs knowingly and pats his arm in sympathy. When the Captain first got his license, my husband was outlining a plan for some practice and lessons, and where they would go.

And I was all, “Ooooh, are you sure YOU should be the one to take him out?”

And Sir Monkeypants was like, “Um, YES, most terrible driver in the world, probably NOT YOU should teach him to drive.”

And I was like, “But I’m afraid you two will butt heads and he’ll be stressed out already, so maybe his mom should take him.”

And Sir Monkeypants was like, “YOU BE CRAZY. But fine, have at it.”

So I took the Captain out a few times, and almost had a heart attack. The handle on the door practically came off in my hand, I was gripping it so hard. This was while we were going at about 20 km/hr around our closed-circuit crescent.

I was sure he was going to crash into a parked car, or hit someone while going around a corner. When it was time to pull into the driveway, I was POSITIVE he was going to ram into the garage door and yelled at him to STOP STOP STOP.

(Actually, that was probably correct and I think I was probably right to yell.)

I think I lasted two times. Then I apologized heartily to Sir Monkeypants and begged him to take over, and he was like, “OKAY THEN.”

They are doing better, the two of them. But I am quite happy to be staying home. Guess I’ll put that chauffeur hat away for a while, at least.

2 thoughts on “Driving Dreams

  1. smothermother

    Yah, Max will be taking lessons from someone other than Marty or. That’s how I learned and how I think all parents in Quebec survive the first time driving years. Ontario should go with the mandatory lessons from a licenced driving school like Quebec has. It would save the sanity and stress of the parents!

  2. I am known in my house for being patient (sometimes I get in trouble for it, like “How can you be so patient when he does that?!?”) and normally it comes naturally, but do I ever have to fake the patience when I drive with my son. I’m constantly taking deep breaths and saying in a forced calm voice, “You might just want to try it this way next time …”

    I have yelled once, when he turned off the highway into the parking lot of the dump with nothing more than a light brake tap first. As we were on two wheels I yelled, “Brake! Brake!” He said, “I am braking!” and I said, “If you were braking the car would slow down!” My husband was in the back seat and I think he loved it because I. Lost. My. Cool.

    Honestly, I have one of the most careful, sensible kids in the world and I thought this driving thing would be a dream, but I am definitely having trouble with it, and can’t imagine him actually moving to the next level when he can drive TOTALLY UNSUPERVISED.


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