The Next Adventure: Driving

As I've said before, the theme of this year is "adolescence," and one of the most significant adolescent rites of passage is learning to drive. We've now begun that phase of life, with David passing his learner's permit test last week, so there is now a new driver in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

I took him by on Tuesday in the early afternoon, and the Lorton DMV station was practically empty. He was immediately called up to the window, and began the initial processing, including the charming DMV photo. After a brief wait, he was called up to go on in to the computer testing lab, and my waiting began.

There was another boy there, who was called into the testing room moments after David. The minutes ticked by, and I have to confess, I didn't look to see how long it was--maybe five minutes? But it felt much longer. Then the other boy emerged, beaming--but not David, not yet. He took a little while longer, then I saw him come out, trying to motion me over as cooly and nonchalantly as possible, but I knew, just knew, that he had passed it--he couldn't hold it in, he was so happy.

I told him how proud I was of him, and after collecting the final paperwork, headed out. He refused to take a celebratory photo outside the DMV, naturally. We then headed home.

Entering our neighborhood, I drove up about a block and a half, so we would be pretty much alone, and pulled to the curb. "Switch with me," I said, and he did, to drive the last block and a half home. He learned in a hurry that it doesn't take a lot of pressure on the accelerator to make a car go, nor does it take a lot of pressure on the brake to make it stop. But he stopped at the stop sign well, and he drove right down the center of the street, making doubly sure he wouldn't hit anything. We turned onto our street, and he spotted neighbor Mark's car parked on the street next to our driveway.

"I'm gonna hit him," he said, and instead from an abundance of caution came to a stop at the entrance to the cul-de-sac proper. I told him he needed just to turn into the driveway, but he took the long way around the cul-de-sac, avoiding hitting anything except the brake pedal in the driveway, leaving two very short skid marks on the blacktop.

Our first chance to drive, and I liked what I saw: he brought a very healthy about of fear to it. There was no bravado, instead just a very, very cautious approach to piloting a car for the first time. He wanted me, when I bragged about it on social media, to use #beafraid or #beveryafraid to describe the fact that he was now on the road. But y'know, I won't. We have a lot to do over the next 45 hours of driving together, but if he can keep that healthy respect for what he's embarked upon, then I think people won't have anything to be afraid about when he's behind the wheel. If anything, the fear I have is more the fear of the idiots out there driving in NoVA who pose the greater risk to him. And so as I posted on Facebook, "To my son, I am very proud of you, and I look forward to this new adventure. To all the yutzes driving badly in NoVA, I love my boy, and if you hurt him I shall hurt you. That is all."