Riding Shotgun

I'm in the passenger seat of the car quite a bit these days. Erin has her learner's permit, on her way to the long-awaited driver's license and she is is begging to drive me anywhere I want to go. Colin wasn't such an eager driver, and for some reason Kyle was in the passenger seat more with Colin than I was. Erin prefers to drive with me - I have no idea why. Kyle is good, and patient, and he only grabbed the wheel from Colin once. But I seem to be the parent who is riding shotgun these days. I usually take several deep breaths as Erin is starting the engine to calm and remind myself that I must let go. I go through the mental checklist of all the ways that we are covered if we get in an accident - we're wearing seatbelts, we're driving in the safest kind of vehicle possible (Volvo), we have insurance, and we won't be on the highway. Then I lean back and trust my life and my daughter's to her still evolving driving skills and all the other people that are accompanying us on the roads we travel. And then I take a few more deep breaths.

It's an interesting feeling to put your life in the hands of your child. She's put her life in my hands for 16 years now, so it seems fair that it's my turn. It is on these little driving jaunts that I fully realize how much I like to be in control. Putting myself at the mercy of a hormonal, often preoccupied and daydreamy teenager forces me to open my hands and stop holding on so tightly. I'm not an overprotective or hovering mom - just one that likes to share my opinions on how things should be done. Fortunately, the teenagers are both laid back and stubborn, and this is a good combination that keeps us all sane and somewhat balanced. So Erin's motivation for driving well is not really to please me, or to keep me from grabbing the wheel from her (I have grabbed the wheel from her only once, so Kyle and I are even), but because she knows I won't let her take the driving test until I think she is ready. So she is on her best driving behavior and driving like an 80 year-old woman. Cars are passing us with fury as she putters down the road averaging about 15 miles under the speed limit. She turns with slow precision and signals in parking lots. She comes to an excruciatingly long stop at four-way, three-way and two-way stop signs, and she gets a fair amount of cars honking at her, although when she asks "is that for me?" I always tell her no.

She's coming along. I have nothing to complain about and I have no reason to worry. But it's a parent rite of passage - this riding shotgun. I'm doing my best to enjoy it, and remind myself that once she gets the license, she'll be gone...puttering around town at 30 miles an hour all on her own. Something tells me she'll speed up.