Driver's Ed

When I was 16, I was totally not excited about driving. Most of my friends had their licenses before me, and plus: I knew what I'd be driving. The rust-brown, 1972 Ford Torino waiting for me didn't exactly inspire a rush of driverly ambition. That, combined with my insanely-complicated-by-gymnastics schedule meant I didn't take driver's ed until the summer after I turned sixteen.

One of our driver's ed assignments was to learn how to change a tire. And not just read about it in a book—we were supposed to actually change a tire. My mom gave a vague explanation of the process and then signed my form stating that I had, indeed, changed a tire. "It's not like you'll ever really need to change a tire!" she said. "I mean, look at those legs. You'll be surrounded by guys wanting to change your tire for you if you ever get a flat." (Insert all the possible things you can think of about how awful this is. I know. I'm blushing just writing about it.)

On the day I was finally ready to take the test to get my driver's license, you'll never guess what happened: I got a flat tire. And you'll never guess who stopped to help me. Not the hordes of adoring, adorable, drooling-over-my-legs boys, but my driver's ed teacher.

That, my friends, is karma.

Now that Haley is sixteen and taking driver's ed (the summer after she turned 16, ironically enough), I've decided to take a slightly different tactic than my parents did. A couple of weeks ago, she learned to change a tire.
 

(Woot! Look at those gorgeous legs!) (Driver's ed assignments have changed, or the teachers have gotten more suspicious, because now you have to provide photographic evidence of your tire-changing knowledge.) (I also learned how to change a tire, only 23 years late, in between taking pictures.)

And when we finally do figure out what car she'll drive, I promise you it will have a working gas gage, a functional odometer, and brake lights that actually, you know, light up when you press on the brakes.

I honestly haven't looked forward to teaching Haley to drive, but it hasn't been nearly as bad as I imagined. She is a careful driver and doesn't have my lead foot. We started, as is Utah tradition, in the church parking lot, driving in circles. She's since braved driving on State Street and University Avenue. Tonight I had her drive up the canyon to Vivian Park and then back home. I confess to a little bit of terror as she took the curves, but really she did a great job.

Teaching your teenager to drive is a lot like potty training a toddler; you're always afraid an accident is going to happen. It reminds you of how fallible we are, speeding around in our automobiles, and of just how easy it would be to make a mistake. It's a terrifying reminder of your own mortality. But it's not just the curves and the lane changes and the parking. It's also a reminder of how fast she is speeding into her own life, away from needing me very much. Driver's ed is teaching me just how little time I have left to influence her and urging me to do better, to make our connection stronger, to pass along the real wisdom she needs.

(It's also reminded me that my legs aren't quite as shapely as they used to be when I was 16, but that is an entirely different story.)

Comments

[Jamie]

Carly didn't have to change a tire for her class. It's a good idea but I'm glad in some ways I didn't have to deal with it. It is very scary and I survived. All the things you said are very true. I am about to start this all over again with child #2. I have to do it 4 more times!!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

[elizabeth]

[whispering: I still don't know how to change a tire]

Just got back from a much, much, much better run. I'm almost up to 2.5 miles!

[Melanie Bell]

EEEK! My just-barely-fifteen-year-old just asked if we could go get his learner's permit. I'm terrified!

[Janssen]

Shortly after I got my first car (a very old cheap Toyota Corolla), I asked my dad to teach me how to change a tire. So we all went out for FHE and. . .I couldn't get one of the nuts off the bolts. Finally my dad took over and it turned out the nut had been welded ON to the bolt and he sheered it right off and. . .so we had to get the whole bolt replaced.

I am traumatized still.

[Wendy]

Bryce recently learned that his school (due to numerous student fatalities from texting) district declared that all students born after 1/96 (Bryce!) will have to wait until they are 18 or seek private instruction. He is bummed. I'm not.

As for the comment about your legs ... I'm wishing I heard any positive feedback about my appearance from anyone in my family while growing up. Instead, I had a younger sister who announced that I had "old woman boobs" and brothers who explained that the boys didn't ask me out because I was "just one of the guys." I'm thinking you were HOT and your mother merely affirmed it. Ha!