Driving Lessons

I press my right foot down into the floorboard, and suddenly, jerkily the car I am not driving comes to a halt. It is not because I have a pedal, I don’t. I am a passenger in my own car, clutching the overhead handhold tightly but trying to look calm as I teach my teenage son to drive. “Ok, maybe a little smoother at the next stop.”

Some people suggest, perhaps I should outsource this ritual of adulthood to a stranger, a professional. But I hold on tight to the advice given to me by another parent who had gone through the process herself. She leaned in telling me, “They have to do 50 hours, driving practice, at a time when your child generally does not want to be around you, choosing instead their room and their friends. It is a gift, that time, those hours, in the car, with them.”

So, I ease up on my imaginary break and tell him to make a left at the next stop sign. In my peripheral vision, I see him, flick up and out his finger and thumbs on both hands while still clutching the steering wheel, making an L and a backwards L, so he can quickly process which way is left. I try to take a deep, but quiet breath, wondering how this boy, so bright with intelligence, still confuses left for right. He registers the correct direction and makes his turn, this time coming to a smoother stop at the stop sign. “Good job,” I tell him calmly.

The first few hours we stuck to empty parking lots and deserted roads with few cars, bikes or pedestrians. The next few were endless four way stop signs that run the length of our city in a neighborhood without hills, curves or one-way roads. Yesterday, he asked to drive from our house, which is on a hill, on a one-way road, that curves around a hill. I reluctantly gave him the key and engaged my imaginary break. It is one thing to spend years in the car on the road that you know so well, to then be the driver in that car, or more accurately, the passenger of the new driver in the car.

So much of watching your child grow up is loosening the grip of the hand hold, the break, taking a breath and reminding myself, that it is okay. He is going to be okay. Despite the stress hormones that first flood and then settle into my veins each time I get into the passenger side, taping the “student driver” sign to the back window, I am grateful for these hours, this time with my son.

12 thoughts on “Driving Lessons

  1. My favorite moment in this piece is “I see him, flick up and out his finger and thumbs on both hands while still clutching the steering wheel, making an L and a backwards L, so he can quickly process which way is left. I try to take a deep, but quiet breath, wondering how this boy, so bright with intelligence, still confuses left for right. He registers the correct direction and makes his turn, this time coming to a smoother stop at the stop sign. “Good job,” I tell him calmly.” I’m reminded of the student driver role we take as parents. I can see some parents in the wrong moment telling him to learn the difference between left and right before ever driving again. You show great empathy in letting him work through it as you sit in the passenger’s seat.

  2. First– I just have to ask- Does your “student driver” have some dyslexic tendencies? Both my kids do, and turning my daughter loose to drive on her own was terrifying because she was very directionally challenged. Navigating around town was something she just had to practice. My son still often discreetly makes the L. In fact, talking about dyslexia is a post that’s coming later this week! To be honest, this also kind-of warms my heart. It’s hard to explain why.

    Second- Oh, does this bring back memories! My foot practically wore a hole through the floorboard pressing on the invisible brake. My daughter has commented more than once that she still hears my voice in her head when she’s engaged in some of the more complicated aspects of driving– like navigating crowded parking lots or parallel parking. I’m taking that as a good thing. 🙂 I did a lot of talking aloud and modeling my thoughts as we went through that season.

    You’ve absolutely captured the realities of this role as a mom in your post. Thanks for this glimpse into your day.

    1. Thanks for asking about “dyslexia”. I see no evidence other than his confusion over those two words. I appreciate insight on your experience and knowing that we will get to the other end. I remind myself, we still have about 45 hours to go. We will get there.

  3. Outsourcing our parenting opportunities is lost time for sure. That is how I feel about a lot of the “hard” moments with my teenage daughter. Each other opportunity you are building bonds and memories together!

  4. This is such a great way to look at this scary right of passage for a teenager. I am currently teaching my third child to drive. The other day we went out and I only did one big air suck. His siblings asked him how many times I did this when he was driving; they were impressed that it was only one. I’ve also noticed that each of my children are so different in their approach to driving and how their personalities play a role in learning this overwhelming skill. It is not your regular classroom experience. Spending time with your kids as teenagers, regardless of the task, is always an opportunity for a conversation when they are often not willing to talk to you. Thanks so much for your insight and keep pressing that imaginary break.

    1. I love the language of “air suck” and how many you did to quantify the progress you and your child are making. I will hold onto to that as I continue with our lessons.

  5. He is going to be okay.
    That’s the mantra I say to myself as the mom of a 21 year old guy.
    Great story.

  6. Loved this so much – just everything about how you compared teaching to drive with parenting. Resonated deeply. I think often of this, telling myself: let go, let go, let go.

    “So much of watching your child grow up is loosening the grip of the hand hold, the break, taking a breath and reminding myself, that it is okay. He is going to be okay.”

    Beautiful, warm words. Love your writing style.

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