I asked him if this is something you mark in the baby book, trying to take his focus off of being so devastated about it. Something ran up from the creek and right under the wheels. I saw a reddish-orange blur. I didn't want to over-analyze it...it definitely wasn't HIS fault, but when he checked the rear-view mirror, the critter still twitched.
Poor kid. He shook the rest of the way home. He's haunted by the noise it made as it went under the wheel; soda cans were definitely more fun. I want to twitch, too, but I had to laugh it off so he didn't feel so bad...
Showing posts with label driver's education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driver's education. Show all posts
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
He's driving...I need a brown paper sack.
Brown Paper Sack moments:
Tiger's Eye put the car in drive.
He drove in traffic. He ran over every theoretically parked car because he doesn't like driving close to the yellow line. ManCub also chants our new mantra: "Scoot over. Middle. Get in the middle."
He drove 45 miles an hour. Even in the middle of the road, it felt like we were at Bonneville Speedway.
Him: "Which lane do we take?"
Me: "You need to get in the right-sided left-hand lane."
Him: "So, right, right?"
Me: "No, there are four lanes. Two are for turning left. You want to get into the right-sided left-turn..."
Him: "Ha ha ha. Gotcha."
He parked in a virtually empty lot. I took a breather, wondered how much some Johnny Walker costs at the supermarket next door, realized I can't drive impaired while he's driving, and settled for Mountain Dew.
He unparked.
We entered a busier-than-heck Wal-Mart parking lot.
Him: "Where do I park?"
Me: "Pick a spot, but take it slow."
Him: "I found it!"
He pulls into the slot straight across from where the lane ends, i.e., he pulls straight in.
Him: "Easy."
Me: "Yeah, but getting out's going to be a real...bear."
And so it was. But, with patience, and waiting for half the parking lot to leave, we had success.
He drove to Gasmart. I told him to park wherever in the virtually empty lot, where all he has to do is like he did at Wal-Mart, pull straight in.
"Take this one," I said. "Okay, I guess take both."
He tried to park in the carport. I kicked him out of the driver's spot when the car sat half parallel yet half perpendicular and 2" away from the fence.
Refills of Ativan? $1. Having Ativan to help forget you're a control freak with a son who's growing up and trying to be free? Priceless.
Tiger's Eye put the car in drive.
He drove in traffic. He ran over every theoretically parked car because he doesn't like driving close to the yellow line. ManCub also chants our new mantra: "Scoot over. Middle. Get in the middle."
He drove 45 miles an hour. Even in the middle of the road, it felt like we were at Bonneville Speedway.
Him: "Which lane do we take?"
Me: "You need to get in the right-sided left-hand lane."
Him: "So, right, right?"
Me: "No, there are four lanes. Two are for turning left. You want to get into the right-sided left-turn..."
Him: "Ha ha ha. Gotcha."
He parked in a virtually empty lot. I took a breather, wondered how much some Johnny Walker costs at the supermarket next door, realized I can't drive impaired while he's driving, and settled for Mountain Dew.
He unparked.
We entered a busier-than-heck Wal-Mart parking lot.
Him: "Where do I park?"
Me: "Pick a spot, but take it slow."
Him: "I found it!"
He pulls into the slot straight across from where the lane ends, i.e., he pulls straight in.
Him: "Easy."
Me: "Yeah, but getting out's going to be a real...bear."
And so it was. But, with patience, and waiting for half the parking lot to leave, we had success.
He drove to Gasmart. I told him to park wherever in the virtually empty lot, where all he has to do is like he did at Wal-Mart, pull straight in.
"Take this one," I said. "Okay, I guess take both."
He tried to park in the carport. I kicked him out of the driver's spot when the car sat half parallel yet half perpendicular and 2" away from the fence.
Refills of Ativan? $1. Having Ativan to help forget you're a control freak with a son who's growing up and trying to be free? Priceless.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Soda cans, permits, parkings lots, and a 16-year-old
So I thought I’d have something really, really funny to blog. It turns out our Tiger’s Eye is a very, very cautious young man. I’d rather have that than blog about how many times I needed a brown paper sack. On our maiden voyage, ManCub, our very skeptical child, rode in the back; he commented he was bored. How’s that for having a responsible young guy having a driver’s permit?
We did discover a great secret to learning accuracy. It happened of its own accord and as the result of an indiscriminate litter bug who left a Monster can, upright, in the parking lot. I saw it, paused, and told Tiger’s Eye to crunch the heck out of it. After a few misses, trying with both the front passenger and driver’s side wheels, the most satisfying crunch occurred. I slammed down the rest of my soda, told him to go to another area of the parking lot, and tossed it into the center, attempting to make him try the same in reverse.
He drove right over it, still accurate. He put it in drive and it crunched beneath his wheel. It became a game, then, a relaxing opportunity in a wide-open space to learn the play of the wheel, the tightness needed for the turn, and backing up/going forward to get the car in the best position. I picked up the flattened can, shook off the excess soda, and showed him his good work. I got in the car, and he drove me to a plastic trash can, close enough to where I just opened my window and reached into the can, getting rid of my litter.
He admits to some shakiness now. Good. It’s harder than he thought, he said. I’m glad he realizes that. I think I’m going to save a lot of soda cans and chuck them all over the parking lot next time.
In my day, my first driving lesson included a 350-pound instructor and a drive-through. Seriously. The first thing I did as a driver was ask for fries with that.
As a reward, I let him take the perimeter road and take that puppy up to 20 mph, for about 100 yards. It seems so fast when you’re the passenger!
An hour of nighttime driving has been logged. My son inches closer to manhood, and I’m not dreading it as much as I thought.
We did discover a great secret to learning accuracy. It happened of its own accord and as the result of an indiscriminate litter bug who left a Monster can, upright, in the parking lot. I saw it, paused, and told Tiger’s Eye to crunch the heck out of it. After a few misses, trying with both the front passenger and driver’s side wheels, the most satisfying crunch occurred. I slammed down the rest of my soda, told him to go to another area of the parking lot, and tossed it into the center, attempting to make him try the same in reverse.
He drove right over it, still accurate. He put it in drive and it crunched beneath his wheel. It became a game, then, a relaxing opportunity in a wide-open space to learn the play of the wheel, the tightness needed for the turn, and backing up/going forward to get the car in the best position. I picked up the flattened can, shook off the excess soda, and showed him his good work. I got in the car, and he drove me to a plastic trash can, close enough to where I just opened my window and reached into the can, getting rid of my litter.
He admits to some shakiness now. Good. It’s harder than he thought, he said. I’m glad he realizes that. I think I’m going to save a lot of soda cans and chuck them all over the parking lot next time.
In my day, my first driving lesson included a 350-pound instructor and a drive-through. Seriously. The first thing I did as a driver was ask for fries with that.
As a reward, I let him take the perimeter road and take that puppy up to 20 mph, for about 100 yards. It seems so fast when you’re the passenger!
An hour of nighttime driving has been logged. My son inches closer to manhood, and I’m not dreading it as much as I thought.
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