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One of the things I’ve learned from having a teenage driver is that when someone is driving slowly in front of me, I know exactly what is happening. It is probably a teenage driver, and there is a parent beside them chanting, “Go slow, go slow, go slow, go slow…” The mother (or father) is pressing their foot down to the floor, gripping the seat belt, and praying to God that nothing bad happens. I’ve also learned that lying across the backseat with a coat over your head does not qualify as “the adult in the vehicle.” Darn. The difficult part about trying to teach a sixteen year old to drive is that I was NEVER a very good passenger, even in the best of circumstances. I was in three car accidents the summer before my senior year in high school. I was never the driver, but the passenger in these accidents. In the third accident, my boyfriend at the time (now my husband) and I were in the back of a jam-packed pickup truck. The boy driving had his license for a week, and we were all coming back from the local swimming hole. He failed to make a turn, (watching the firecracker someone threw out the window) ran into a tree, and I was the only one injured. Bob and I managed to get out of the back of the truck, and I felt something warm streaming down my neck. Bob took one look at me and the blood, and turn and ran. (He still has a hard time with blood. Ha) My best friend Donna ripped her shirt off and held it on top of my head. A kind gentleman driving by ushered us into his truck, and drove us to the emergency room, while his dog licked the blood off my leg the entire trip. The nurse called my mother to inform her there had been an accident, and she replied that I couldn’t be involved, because I was in my room after having been grounded. (Oops.) So, many stitches and a shaved head later, I became a terrible passenger. Now, what was I talking about? Oh, teenage drivers. I’ve experienced many facets of teenage driving. I was thrilled when my daughter Sarah passed her test, and became quite a responsible and diligent driver. I witnessed first hand the devastation of a family when their teenage driver never came home. The grief still has a firm grip on my heart, as my sister and her family move forward without their son, who was the same age as Sarah. In my house we know what can happen when you get behind the wheel. This has put this recent teenage driver and her mother in a precarious position. I know she WANTS to drive; I know she NEEDS to drive; I know she WILL drive. It’s just hard. It’s too damn hard. So, I continue being the mother. I shut my mouth, I gather my courage, I remember there will be a glass of wine waiting for me when I get home, and I hand her the keys. Now, when you get behind us on Circleville Road and we are driving very slowly, YOU will know why.
