Can I drive?
My, how time flies. A few short months ago I was bemoaning the fact Daughter #2 was learning to drive. Little did I realize that was the easy part.
Now that she's practiced and prepared she spends her time pestering me to drive — all the time.
No matter where we go, how long we'll be gone, or when we go, the question always is "Can I drive?" Whether she goes depends on whether she gets to drive. So, if she's not driving, she's not going.
I've pretty much retired from driving, at least temporarily. I've found it's easier to let her drive than suffer her discontent.
About a month ago when we went to Colorado she asked to drive at every stop. At every stop she was denied. Thank goodness. She's a good driver but the thought of her careening around the curves on mountain roads required a little more courage than I had.
She kept wondering why her dad wouldn't trust her behind the wheel. I explained it wasn't a matter of trust. After all, we've been married 22 years and he doesn't even let me drive. It's just his thing — he drives. We ride.
So we've satisfactorily resolved the "Can I drive?" issue. I let her. Her dad doesn't. That's the compromise.
For the most part, we've gotten along with this compromise and it has its advantages. I no longer have to wait for the late-evening phone call when she's ready to come home from work. I also don't have to take her to work on a weekend morning.
The disadvantages are that I never have a vehicle when I need to go somewhere and I'm the one left waiting for a ride or walking. Most of the time I don't mind.
What I do mind is getting in the car early in the morning, turning the key, and being blasted right out of the driver's seat by the bass-thumping beat of the radio. I also don't like having to readjust the seat, mirror, and steering wheel after she's been the driver for five minutes.
I can hear Daughter #1 as she reads this. "She's just spoiled," she'll huff. How quickly they forget. She forgets she was the same way when she was learning to drive. The big difference is that Daughter #1 had a car of her own.
That'll be the next step — and that's a story for another time.
— DONNA BERNHARDT
