| |
Hell Hath No Furry As A Teen Ager with Power Steering
by Kellie Head
My teenage son, David, enrolled in the
Drivers Education course offered by the local High School, but before unleashing
him to what was sure to be a frazzled instructor, I decided to teach him
the driving basics in the family car -- not the new one.
David, a tall, lanky basketball player, found it necessary to contort his
limbs in order to squeeze behind the wheel of our small economy car. This
proved to be quite a challenge. Fortunately, the car came equipped with a
sunroof in case he needed extra room to stretch.
We began with the five-minute seat adjustment ritual. Apparently, he thought
the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed Company had manufactured the car seats. After
a beautifully choreographed dance with the seat--up, back, tilt, no tilt,
and up and back again--he ended up in the very same position in which he
had started.
Next, David conducted a rear-view mirror alignment. While he paused to admire
the peach fuzz on his upper lip, I cleverly placed a block of wood under
the gas pedal, preventing the "pedal to the metal" scenario. With my hand
properly poised on the emergency brake, just in case, we were ready to hit
the open road. That is, the open road, two mailboxes, a trash barrel, and
the neighbors' azaleas.
Once out of the neighborhood and the presence of small children, I could
finally loosen my grip on the door handle and direct David to the nearest
parking lot -- the one with a 24 hour pharmacy so I could refill my prescription
of Valium if need be. Thankfully, I had the forethought to warn other drivers
with a makeshift "student driver" sign affixed to the top of the car. Thank
you notes are still pouring in from grateful motorists around our
community.
As we stopped at the first intersection, David caught a glimpse of the
schools' Homecoming Queen in the car next to us. This sighting instinctively
caused him to flexed his biceps in hopes of gaining her attention (all the
while leaving his hands at 10 and 2 o'clock). I suppose she may have been
impressed had she not been simultaneously talking on the cellular phone and
applying lipstick in her rear view
mirror.
The next mile or two went fairly smooth and we arrived at our destination
unharmed and with very little driver-induced turbulence. I pointed him toward
the back of the plaza parking lot to learn parallel parking between two trash
dumpsters. At least we wouldn't have to exchange insurance cards in the event
of a fender bender with an already bludgeoned trash receptacle.
Heading home, I reluctantly agreed to travel via interstate. Merging with
traffic terrified me more than the thought of being assimilated by the Borg
from Star Trek. I nearly slammed my foot through the passenger floorboard
in an attempt to stop the car and avoid certain death. At one point I
inadvertently shrieked as we narrowly escaped collision with a mega-ton semi
truck. I found little comfort in the words "items in mirror are closer than
they appear" while I watched another big rig gain on us.
I aged a lifetime that afternoon and the mere mention of it still conjures
up visions of American servicemen dodging shrapnel in war torn France, during
WWI. Until modern science discovers a drug more powerful than Prozac or I
fall stricken with a debilitating long-term memory disease, my kids will
have to settle for a city bus pass or a 15-speed mountain bike with racing
stripes.
More You Might Like:
Stupid Pets for Sale
Snowed In
The Proverbial Daughter
About the Author:
Kellie resides in central Illinois, is married and is the mother of six children.
|
Win Fun Stuff!
Missed the last couple of newsletters? Haven't visited for a while? This section highlights articles and crafts that have recently been added to FC...
