So, you know how they say patience is a virtue? Whoever said that clearly never tried to teach a teenager how to drive. I’ve raised kids, dealt with teenage angst, but nothing—nothing—prepared me for this. Let’s just say my son’s first driving lesson took years off my life.
It started innocently enough. We’re driving down a nice, empty road—smooth sailing. I’m feeling pretty good about this, actually. He’s keeping it between the lines, nobody’s in the way, and for a minute, I start thinking, “Hey, this isn’t so bad. I could get used to this!” Oh, foolish optimism.
Then, out of nowhere, he asks, “Dad, should I try parallel parking?” Before I can answer, he swings the wheel. But this isn’t some gentle maneuver. No, no. My son decides to parallel park on an open highway like he’s docking the Titanic. There are no cars around, mind you. There is zero reason to parallel park. But here we are, sideways in the middle of the road like he’s auditioning for a stunt driving role.
Cue me gripping the door handle, muttering words I’m definitely not proud of. I’ve never felt my heart rate spike so fast. My life flashed before my eyes—and spoiler, it was mostly filled with me questioning every decision that led up to this moment.
He looks at me, wide-eyed, frozen, waiting for my sage driving advice. The only thing I could say was, “What on earth are you doing?!” His hands tighten on the wheel as he mumbles, “I thought I should try parking.” At this point, I’m thinking, “You’re going to try parking your license in the DMV trash can if you keep this up.”
Needless to say, he still doesn’t have his license. I’m not sure who’s more traumatized—him, me, or the highway.
Even though it was a near-death experience (for my nerves, anyway), I’ve realized that teaching him to drive is a marathon, not a sprint. He’ll get his license eventually, and we’ll laugh about the time he tried to park where no car has ever parked before—right in the middle of a highway.