Just a few days ago, my brother reached one of the biggest milestones a young adult can reach. It’s the day that both parents and children wait for, eyeing the calendar until the date finally arrives. I, for one, was skeptical that he could achieve this goal, but he proved me wrong. My very own baby brother finally cleared his dishes from the kitchen table! Ha just kidding, that hasn’t happened yet. Slightly less exciting but still monumental – it was his 16th birthday. His Sweet 16. The Big 1-6. License in hand and a smile on his face, he set out ready to conquer the world! Gotchya again… he doesn’t have a car yet. However, his big day did get me thinking and I began to reminisce about my own days of the past.
It seems like only yesterday that I practiced driving my dad’s Honda Pilot while he sat next to me, eyeing the road like a hawk. He pretended to be calm, cool and collected while we’d chat about bird species, baked goods, and highly contagious diseases. I learned a lot about the Bay Breasted Warbler and the Yellow-Bellied Nuthatch but it took me a long time to master the concept of a 4-way stop. And considering that I consistently got confused when it came to yield signs or left turns (and let’s be real… I still do) it’s incredible that he was able to teach me the ropes without wanting to strangle me with them. It is also important to note that my sister felt the need to wear a helmet when she tagged along with us in the back seat of the car. I wish I could say that this trend changed when I got my license.
Not only that, but my father also let me choose what music we listened to. This may not seem like a big deal, but keep in mind that I was an overexcited 15-year-old girl who changed the radio as often as I changed lanes. There was a lot of flipping stations going on, and probably a lot of flipping off from other drivers too. That’s nothing different than what I deal with now, though, so I’ve become accustomed to the gesture. You win some you lose some.
Regardless, my father’s patience and perseverance was incredible and I owe him for all the hours we spent driving together, through parking lots and neighborhoods. We would take the same routes over and over again until the turns and twists became familiar. In fact, I may have driven slowly past some houses enough times to be put on neighborhood watch, but I guess that’s just part of the sacrifice.
At the time, getting my license seemed like such an arduous task to complete. Preparing to drive is no easy feat; the battle wounds and emotional scars that I received as a 15-year-old permit carrier will be treasured until I have to teach one of my own to take the wheel. My firstborn will be driving a minivan, no exceptions.
Even though the past 4 years have gone by lightning fast (the opposite of my driving speeds), I still try to be grateful for the privilege of being able to drive. The freedom that Max my Mazda 3 has given me is unparalleled to anything. There’s nothing better than cruising through town with the windows down, sunroof open and music way up. My bass is pretty weak and my speakers are starting to wear out, but that’s definitely not because I’ve ever played the music too loud. I would never do that.
