There's a road I don't drive down as much as I used to because where I live and the places I frequent are in different areas of the city than in years past. Yesterday, I was going downtown and as I drove down a particular road, I was struck by a memory of when I was fifteen.
It was the very day I had gone to the DMV and gotten my drivers permit. That meant I could drive if a parent was there in the car with me, making sure I was being responsible. I'd been through drivers education. I'd seen the videos designed to shock you into being a safe driver. I'd done the driving portion of my education with a teacher who was very nice and utterly boring and unremarkable at the same time. It was time to get my permit.
My sixteenth birthday would be in February and it was now December, scant weeks away from when I'd qualify for an actual drivers license, but that was okay, I didn't expect to be driving that much with my parents and it was enough time to get the hang of things.
I have no recollection of getting the permit at all. I don't even have any memory of it being my father that was there with me, but I do remember what happened on that road I was talking about at the beginning of this post and what he did, so I know it must have been him that was with me.
I hope you're not waiting for something dramatic, because it was really nothing--but the kind of nothing you don't forget, no matter how small it was.
Back to the road. It's mildly curvy and then relatively straight up until this one little part that has both a hill and a tight s-curve at the same time. I didn't know enough from experience that I should slow down to take the curve (I knew the road well as a passenger) and when I got into the first turn--did I mention this was during rush hour traffic--I didn't realize I would have to aggressively correct my steering due to my speed. In short, I started fading into the next lane over, into traffic.
My father never said a word, he just grabbed hold of the wheel and calmly pulled the car back into it's lane. Nor did he even scold me afterwards (that I can remember). The experience on that very first day of driving was powerful though. It made me think on many occasions that I should be more careful and that a car was a powerful thing that needed to be respected. Thanks, dad.
The Big Boy Update: "That truck is broke." He has these four trucks from Uncle Dale and Cousin Olivia. His favorite, by far, is the tow truck which has that all important hook. His second favorite is Olivia's dump truck because he can hook the tow truck hook on the axle of the dump truck. This afternoon in the back yard I watched him time and again move the dump truck over to a new part of the yard, say in the bushes, and then drive the tow truck over to rescue it. When I stuck my head out to ask him how he was doing, he pointed to the newly repositioned dump truck and said, "that truck is broke."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: She came over to gramps this evening while he was resting on the couch and told him, "I potty." She did this twice, and he didn't quite know what she meant. Did she want help getting there? Was it an informational statement as to what had already happened in her pants? If you guessed the latter, you would be correct.
Fitness Update: Busy day so I went over to the fitness room and did the leg exercises last. The quarter mile jog home felt like I was running in syrup my legs were so rubbery.
Someone Once Said: A society that gets rid of all its troublemakers goes downhill.
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