Liceenced to Drive

This past month my sixteen year old daughter, Robyn, has been asking me to teach her to drive. The first time she mentioned it I could feel my hair stand on end and my bowels contract. I am not a good passenger at the best of times. I did not teach my elder three to drive and I don’t intend to start now with the younger two.

Even when I sit shotgun in my eldest daughter’s car or my eldest son’s car my foot is firmly planted on an imaginary break. I am not a good passenger. I do not want to die in a fiery car crash; I would rather go peacefully in my sleep.

So I tell her to ask her brother to teach her or better still wait till your seventeen and go to driving school, which is a requirement anyways. I tell her I am not paying for it as I did not pay for the older three to take their lessons. They had to work to earn the money to pay for said lessons. Of course this does not make her happy. She does not want to ask her big brother to teach her. Those two have a love hate relationship. While they do love each other she thinks her brother is always getting in her face about, gee I don’t know, responsibility, morals, manners, passing her SPM, silly stuff like that. As for paying for her own lessons, well I thought that one up long time ago to buy myself time before they actually get to drive.

I am a worrier; I am always afraid one of my children will have an accident and die in a fiery car crash. I remember my eldest son when he wanted a bicycle. I said no he was in standard four at that time. My husband on the other hand went out and bought him his bike and every time he rode out I worried.

I worry now about my youngest son cycling. I also worry when my daughter tells me I drive like a turtle. All her friends she informs me drive fast and she has gotten used to it. I just look at her and think “keep talking girl and you won’t be going out with your friends any more”. This does not make me feel any better.

I remember Robyn when she first started crawling. The second day she had climbed two flights of steps and when I found her she was sitting on the edge of the highest step with a big old grin on her face. I remember her first birthday; we had bought her a plastic ride toy. There had been a bar at the back for a toddler to push the toy. Even though she had not started walking yet as soon as she saw that toy she stood up grabbed the bar and started running around the room. She walked from that day forward.

She has always been head strong. It’s not that I don’t want her to drive; I would prefer her to wait until she is more mature. That she understands the consequences of driving like an idiot or driving drunk or speeding. The young think their indestructible, and so with that said I think I have a few more years to go before I start to worry.