garden-sitting-grass-shoes

I swallow hard, trying to work up courage. My car sits in the garage and I take the passenger seat, feeling like I’m climbing onto an unsafe carnival ride. I look to my seventeen year-old son who’s driving and make sure my seat belt’s fastened. “Okay, let’s go,” I say, trying to sound chipper.

Patrick shoves the gearshift in reverse. The car jumps. Off we go, backing out too fast. The first “Slow down!” comes out of my mouth.

Three weeks ago Patrick received his Learner’s Permit. Although he’s not as bad as at the very beginning, I’m ready for a nervous breakdown. A year ago I rejoiced when he didn’t show much interest. He was young and immature and I was happy to postpone his getting behind the wheel.

But then he grew taller and thinner and whiskers appeared on chin and cheeks. And one by one, his friends acquired that ultimate status symbol for high school boys – car keys hanging from the belt loop. One day Patrick announced he was ready to get his license.

Today we leave our driveway. Patrick pulls onto our windy Connecticut road. Already I’m on full alert.  A jogger is coming up on the right.  A car’s coming toward us on the left. The road’s narrow.  We’ll all meet at the same time. Patrick’s going too fast.  “Slow down,” I repeat like a mantra.  “Slow down, SLOW down, slow DOWN…” Phew. We make it.

Patrick’s taking Driver’s Ed, but the instructors are maddeningly slow getting to the meat of this course—driving. Instead it’s how many car lengths you should be from the vehicle ahead, how far to park from a curb and whether to take u-turns in residential sections.

Going around a curve, Patrick gets too close to a stone wall and I flinch. He notices my nervousness and clears his throat. “Bob’s Mom let him drive her to Massachusetts last weekend.” I roll my eyes, thinking good for her. I already feel deflated knowing I’m the worst driving teacher in the world, which is ironic since I thought I’d be good.

I thought I’d be like my father who was calm and reassuring. And God knows he had his challenges. “Laurie, stop checking your hair in the rear view mirror,” he had to keep saying. My husband’s also a good teacher, but travels a lot.  So this task, which requires confidence and steeliness, is left to the most skittish.

We come to the main road with cars whizzing in each direction. I start cuing Patrick, but worry I’m confusing him. I think of that scene in “Gone with the Wind” when Rhett Butler covers the horse’s head as he and Scarlett flee Atlanta. “You’ll like this better if you don’t see anything,” Rhett says to the frightened animal.

After making sure all is clear, I close my eyes, feeling the car pull out. In a second I open them and we’re on the main road.

We travel along but I’m a cauldron of worries. If Patrick moves too close to the yellow line, I picture us hurtling into oncoming traffic. If he moves too far to the right, I see us wrapped around some tree.

I know I’m cuing too much, throwing too many directions at him, but can’t help it. I need to feel in control, even though I’m not. I take a deep breath, seeing the weeks and months ahead like so many steep hills.

We arrive at the drug store where Patrick takes a few passes getting into one of the parking spaces. While he’s inside, I think of Bob’s calm, competent mother.  She let her son drive to Massachusetts? I can barely handle a two-mile outing.

That afternoon we make it home in one piece. And over the next few months, Patrick and I go out several times a week. I never relax. I never get good at this, but a strange thing starts to happen.

Either because of me or in spite of me, Patrick improves, not great, not perfect, but not bad either. And slowly I start to improve. My hands stop shaking when I hand him the keys. I don’t need an airsickness bag when he takes me to the coffee shop.

As we continue our outings, I notice something else. The more I try to control and cue him, the worse he does. The more I work to stay quiet, to let him use his own intuition, the more he learns to trust himself.

Three months pass and Patrick receives his license. That night we decide to celebrate by picking up pizza. Out of habit I have keys in hand, ready to go, but my son stops me. “I’ll do it,” he says.

I look out the window. It’s October and will be dark soon. It’s rush hour. My son has never driven by himself. That’s when I look at his hopeful face and realize I’ve done my best. Besides professional lessons, I’ve given the only neurotic, angst-ridden instruction I could.

I hand over the keys and watch with pride as my son attaches them to his belt loop.

 

(Published in “Connecticut Muse Magazine,” Spring 2013)

 

Have you had to teach a kid to drive?  Did you survive?  Comments are always welcome and if you feel inclined, please share.  Thank you!

Comments(34)

  1. Our son was a terror to teach, Laurie. He was an excellent driver but a reckless and impatient one – tailgating, zooming up to intersections, over-confidence, you name it – he frazzled me no end. Our daughter was completely different – really casual and a bit ditzy (she doesn’t know right from left – apparently that’s a “thing” and had to have an “R” and “L” on her dashboard when she went for her test!) I’d say “stop!” “STOP!!” “STOOOPPPP!!!” and she’d say “don’t shout” and so it went. I was so relieved we only had two children to teach – my nerves never completely recovered – any more and I’d be in the asylum!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Leanne, Glad to hear I wasn’t the only one having a nervous breakdown. My second son was just as bad. I’m not sure how any of us survived those years.

  2. OMG. This made me laugh because you reminded me of me, except, I take the crown as the worst teacher. After one particularly difficult drive (I screamed when he took a corner too wide and almost hit another car) he got out of the car, handed me the keys and waited another year before deciding to try it again. By then, I had secured a laid back friend to do the teaching. It worked. And for another laugh, one of my friends decided that she needed to drink wine while her son was learning to drive. She never got to drink it because his quick starts and stops made that wine slosh out of the glass all over her!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Jennifer, Hilarious! I have a friend who ended up weeping with her daughter on the side of the road, they were so traumatized by the experience. Its a wonder any of us survive.

  3. Great post! I relived all my experiences! After all the excitement it’s awesome to have them driving themselves to school etc.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Jena, Patrick’s now in his late 20’s, but I still get a little “nervous” when he drives. He still drives a little fast for me.

  4. Oh. Those. Final. Two. Sentences.
    <3 <3

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Carla, Thanks so much. Those keys brought Patrick much pride.

  5. I simply can’t imagine teaching a teen to drive! My hat’s off to you, Laurie, for a parenting job well done–and a terrific story.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Roxanne, Thanks so much. Its right up there with roller coaster rides and trips to the dentist.

  6. My sons have been driving for years and I am still scared being in the car with them or even when they are out driving alone.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Antoinette, I think there’s a certain trauma that happens when we teach them that never quite goes away. I’m glad I”m not the only one.

  7. Reading this makes my stomach hurt as I relive helping our 3 kids learn to drive. Our youngest….well, let’s just say my stomach still cramps up every time she gets behind the wheel (and she’s in college). I’m not sure there was anything else as terrifying as as the driving lessons.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Shelley, OMG. I can’t imagine teaching three kids. I’d jump out a window. Kudos to you and your bravery.

      1. I wouldn’t volunteer to teach another three kids to drive, that’s for sure! I’m sharing this in a roundup post to publish on 10-28-17.

          • Laurie Stone

          • 6 years ago

          Thanks so much, Shelley! And can’t say I blame you about not wanting to teach another three kids to drive.

  8. This is coming up with my children in a few years. I am very worried about it, but your story helps me to realize what is important — getting them to trust themselves. Thanks for the post.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Shari, Its hard to do at first, but the sooner they trust themselves, the better they do.

  9. Thanks for a fun post, causing me to relive the horrors of the past with the realization, I SURVIVED! What’s more amazing so did all three of them. And they’re all good drivers today (if way too fast!)
    My top story concerns my two sons. Son 1 had just got his licence and inherited an old, but road-worthy car from his brother-in-law. He gave permission to Son 2 to drive his car when Mom went along to supervise.
    Right.
    We came to the bit where you teach them to stop and start on a hill. Steep hill. Car behind us. Wild revs of the accelerator. Tight grip on the steering wheel. Knuckles white. Me amazingly quiet (I think I was trying to breathe at the time) and . . . the steering wheel came off in his hands.
    Son 1 had been doing some renovations to the car and for reasons I choose to forget, he undid all the screws on the steering wheel and forgot to replace them.
    I rest my case. We got home in one piece – and Son 2 went to a driving school!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Shirley, Oh my God!!! How horrifying. You have to make a blog post out of that, if you haven’t already. So relieved to hear you both survived!

  10. I don’t have children, so I can’t relate on that kind of level, but I do remember what it was like for my parents when I started driving LOL! My red mustang was a stick shift and my father taught me to drive it in a cemetery so I wouldn’t kill anybody haha. There were lots of hills in it and honestly, I never got used to the clutch, so I kept my foot on it all the time and burned out 4 of them in the first year! They were always scared to ride with me lol! Thanks for sharing. Great post.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Kristi, Couldn’t help laughing about the cemetery and not being able to kill anyone. Your father (like mine) sounds like a patient man. Its amazing they both survived teaching us.

  11. OMG, I totally identified with you. I literally got sick to my stomach every time I was in the car with one of our student drivers. 9 kids and it NEVER got better. My nerves were shot and I gave it all to my husband to handle. He’s far more calm and I decided that I would invest in all the other parenting jobs I felt competent at. Good for you, though!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Evelyne, Nine children? You, my dear, are a saint. You’re also smart to give that job to your husband. Unfortunately, mine travelled all the time and it was me or they’d never get practice. Can’t imagine going through this 9 times. You’re a strong, amazing woman.

  12. Currently teaching son #2, who is more jittery and yet at the same time less focused than his older brother. He’s gotten worlds better since we began in April. I’m almost ready for him to do it on his own. Dear God, please, may he never have to back out of our driveway.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Julia, I’ve been driving over 40 years and still can’t back out of the driveway. I end up on my neighbor’s lawn. I think your son will be fine. Sounds like he’s had lots of practice, thanks to you.

    • Ter

    • 4 years ago

    Omg! My kid just turned 14 a couple weeks ago so this really hits home for me! I think I’ll leave to hubby because I’m an emotional mess! Having feels of “my baby has grown up and I’m devastated” to “no one with a room like that should be behind a wheel!” Hahaha

    Great read!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Ter, Good point about the room! Never thought of that. Glad you could relate.

  13. Oh, this took me back. “Shannon, hit the brake. Hit the brake!! Hit it harder!!!”

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Carol, Laughing. There’s nothing scarier.

  14. Oh no. I have two to dread teaching to drive. Thankfully I have a few more years. My dad was a great teacher. My husband is uptight to begin with so I guess it will have to be me I may bring a sippy cup of wine. Thanks for sharing this though. It made me smile….and terrified.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Lauren, A sippy cup of wine might not hurt. Stick to easy places at first and then go to busier roads. It helps get your own courage up.

  15. OMGness! This takes me back to when I was learning how to drive. This goes waaayyyy back to when stores weren’t open on Sundays. My mother’s boyfriend at the time would take me to shopping mall parking lots and let me drive in this “safe” zone.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 3 years ago

      Mona, That’s the perfect place to learn how to navigate the car. Then comes real roads! Gulp.

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