The Road Changes You
I have reached that stage of parenting where my oldest child has quested for and acquired her driver license. Many parents will tell you when your first child gets their driver license it becomes a “game changer”, and they are absolutely right. My days of driving all over the region, to and from school and sports practices and tournaments and dentist appointments and doctor appointments and family events are beginning to dwindle. I am starting to gain back some time, some life.
I am very proud of my daughter’s driving skills. She is a solid, mostly patient person in traffic. Having said that…
When that child got their first taste of life behind the wheel, she quickly transformed into the most critical backseat driver. She was learning how to drive “by the book”, whereas I had years of experience beyond “hands at 10 and 2”. None of that experience mattered when I failed to stop at the big fat stop line, THEN moved forward to turn right. She told me all about how wrong I was to do it that way; her relentless criticism became a soundtrack as I drove her yet again to wherever she needed to go.
With a new driver in the family, not only does your life schedule change and the days open up, but your child may soon discover a new standard of living within the vehicle. In the before times, my kids had no reservations about leaving apple cores, half full soda cans, candy wrappers, gym socks, blankets, shoes, and bags of restaurant leftovers in every cubby and crevice of the passenger compartment. Now that she is in charge of that same vehicle, no one is allowed to eat in the car. No one gets to leave their crap behind. The smallest clod of dirt in the wheel well justifies a trip to the car wash. Keep your dirty shoes off of the floor while she drives, you filthy animals!
Also, my child will acquire my attitude toward driving. It is both funny and awkward to listen to my daughter casually comment on the actions of anonymous traffic just as I am thinking it. “Let’s go, people!” comes out with exactly my inflection.
Of course, all of these road adventures require gas so now I receive texts every few days that say nothing but “Dad. 45 miles left”. She knows that thanks to the magic of cell phones, I can drop gas or car wash money into her bank account as quickly as her old man can punch in the numbers. It is both joyfully convenient and dangerously enabling. A jobless teenager behind the wheel burns through money like public transportation project. Instead of coming straight home from volleyball practice she has to wind her way through the neighborhood like a wandering cat. It may be ten miles to home, but the route will be 40 miles with a stop for a coffee drink here and a new lip balm at the store over there.
Having a child out on the road changes you. Handing over the keys to someone who is 16 but will always be that precocious toddler in your eyes is a test, for sure. You get to watch them stretch their wings and revel in their somewhat limited freedom; it is both exhilarating and frightening. I have spent enough time on the road to know how many of us humans are ignorant clowns driving a ton of steel at high speeds. When your child is in the middle of that mess, you worry every moment they are away from you. It is like letting go of the bicycle once again and letting them pedal away, so far, far away.
And you can’t wait for them to get a job and pay for their own gas.
Hop Dad 