Skip to main content

Teenage Mutant Drivers

This was first published in 2004, but since I'm going through it again, I thought it appropriate to post again. And why, you may ask? It's because I have NEW Mutant Teenage Driver.

Teenage Mutant Drivers
5.February.2004

I am a horrible driver. I’ve been doing it wrong for years and I had no idea. Although I have caused no accidents, nor participated in any collisions requiring bodywork or insurance agents, I am still Driving Impaired. The fact that I’ve never had a ticket doesn’t mean that I know what I’m doing either. How could I have gone for years and years thinking—nay believing that I was a safe and conscientious driver, you might ask? The answer is clear. I never had a teenager in my car with a Drivers Permit in her purse. Not only does she hold a legal document, entitling her to get behind the wheel of a car whilst one of her adult progenitors white-knuckles the dashboard, it appears that her license is also gives her…er, license to tell me every move I make is the wrong one.

“MOM, GO!” she hollered at me the other day.

I hit the gas and chirped the tires due to the adrenaline rush she’d just given me. I haven’t burned rubber since I was in high school, and I haven’t had anyone yell at my driving since my mother was teaching me to drive when I was a teenager. She scared me.

“Why did you yell at me?” I said, clutching my chest, through which I was sure my middle-aged heart was about to burst.

“The light turned GREEN Mom” Oh, well then. I guess she would have been negligent in her duties had she not yelled at me a nanosecond after the light had changed. I thanked her profusely for sparing me the embarrassment of sitting at a green light for half a second. I am obviously inept in recognizing when the light changes.

“HEY! You’re NOT supposed to do THAT!” she sneered with arms folded across her teenage chest as I made a right turn and went directly into the inside lane instead of going to the outside lane and then signaling. “Our Drivers Ed teacher told us that our parents have a bad habit of doing that and we should tell you that you’re doing it all wrong.” Note to self: Be sure to thank that Drivers Ed teacher in an appropriate manner. This should involve shaving cream and his car. Another experience I haven’t had since I was in high school.

I am not normally a yeller. I do my very best not to raise my voice at my children, because I know how I felt when I was yelled at as a child. Since the advent of my Teenage Mutant Driver, I have been known to raise my voice on numerous occasions. I make no apologies for this occurrence because it serves to save my life.

“STOP STOP STOP STOP!” This is me yelling at my Teenage Mutant Driver as she pulls out into oncoming traffic that is heading straight for me on the passenger side of the vehicle. So she does. Stop, I mean. Right in the middle of the intersection, forcing the driver coming at me to slam on his/her brakes.

“Back up! Back up!” I loudly instruct her, as the oncoming vehicle slides towards us. Obviously I frightened her, because she slammed it into reverse and chirped the tires. In all my years of driving, I doubt I have ever managed to burn rubber in reverse. Score one point for the offspring in the Surpassing Parental Expectations category.

“Did you LOOK before you backed up?” I asked, again alta voz. I knew the answer to this question, but I had obviously succumbed to the same disease my parents suffered and was now asking questions that needed no answers.

Later, after I was able to get my pulse down into the Not Having A Heart Attack Range, I asked her if she knew what she had done wrong. Her answer surprised me.

“I had the right of way! I got to the stop sign first!” She had a point. She had reached the stop sign first. I patiently explained to her that while yes, she had reached the stop sign before the driver on the other side of the intersection, the traffic to the right and left of us did not have to stop and didn’t care who reached the stop sign first.

Teenage Mutant Drivers are not known for taking criticism well, or believing that their parental units know more than they do on any given subject, including driving. Thus, I continue to face abuse.

Sometimes I am weak and believe what people say to me about me. In order to combat this somewhat fragile aspect of my personality, I now stand in front of my bathroom mirror every morning and repeat the following mantra: I AM A GOOD DRIVER. I AM A SAFE DRIVER. I AM NOT INSANE. DEATH TO ALL DRIVERS ED TEACHERS.

Comments

  1. oh....so true!! teaching children to drive is the WORST! I leave that to my hubby...he has stronger nerves than I do! lol

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…

I'm Sick. And the election isn't helping.

I spoke too soon about feeling better. My grandson was delightful enough to share his virus with me, so I've spent the past five days losing everything from both ends. It hasn't been pretty.

As a weight loss program though...

At least one end of me has stopped spewing. Now I wait for the other end to stop pretending to be filled with hot lava and erupting without much notice. Sorry, this is what is called over-sharing. Apparently I'm very good at it. You're welcome.

Last night I walked around the block with hubby and our adorable puppy. It was the first time I've been out of the house in five days. It was lovely, even though I was very shaky. Today I actually tried to accomplish something. I sat at my jewelry table, moved my seaglass around. Picked up pieces and played them through my hands. Such beautfy that came from something considered useless garbage and tossed away. I love my sea glass. It gives me the happies.

I also had a severe case of J…