When you are a Mom to a teenager, you expect these things to happen. They turn sixteen and they want to drive, so they go out and get their learner's license and gaze longingly at your car.
Only Kevin, since he never does anything the easy or usual way, also got his motorcycle learners because we're putting him through a course for that, so it makes sense. Isn't the motorcycle one cute? It's so tiny!
My first driving experience was on the way to church one Sunday. Dad simply threw me the keys, even though I had never sat in the driver's seat before, and got in the passenger side. I don't actually remember a lot about learning to drive, except eventually getting out at one point and refusing to get back in. My Dad and I didn't get along too well when it came to driving training, with him either yelling or criticizing, and me being anxious and defensive.
It only makes sense then that John teaches Kevin how to drive, then. Each day they go out for a little roll around the blog and I come home to stories.
Kev: "Mom, my feet are SO BIG that they were on the brake and the gas AT THE SAME TIME."
John: "Ya the brakes were so hot after you could smell them."
Kev: " I accidentally put the car in fifth instead of third, and we went really fast down the hill."
John: "He gets all panicked if there is a car behind him. I thought he might hit something"
Me: "Oh so I can't pick you up but why don't you and Dad drive there and then he can drive home?"
(Kevin looks stricken and begins to stammer.)
Kev: "Um...I don't think so. I haven't gotten the car out of second gear yet. "
Something tells me that this is going to be a LONG spring.