 |
by Laurie Sontag
An award-winning humor column about life, parenting and accidental butt-cleavage sightings from the Gilroy Dispatch and the Humor News Service.
Now Available! Laurie is in Chicken Soup for the Soul Celebrates Mothers. Click the Amazon link below to buy it now!
Home
About
Laurie
Column
Archive
Awards
and Rings
For
Editors
Reprint
Information
Links
Contact
Laurie
Send
Page To a Friend
Current
Gilroy
Dispatch
Column
Read Laurie's
column Friday afternoons at the Gilroy
Dispatch (click
on Take 2 at the Dispatch site or search for Laurie
Sontag).
Baby, You Can Drive My Car
My son has learned to drive.
No, he isn't actually on the road. And no, he doesn't actually have a driver's license. He is, after all, only five. But he thinks he knows how to drive. To a five-year old, thinking you know how and doing are pretty much the same thing.
I am not thrilled with this new skill. You see, I am not the best of drivers (and before you ask, NO, I will not tell you what kind of car I drive so you can avoid me on the Street). I failed my driver's test twice. The first time when I was 16 and the second when I was 30-something. It wasn't my fault, really. Those questions are all trick questions. Just ask anyone.
I once hit my husband. Not with my fist, but with my car. You see, I was in my car, following him. We were making a right turn when it happened. My husband edged his truck out into the traffic, so I edged my car behind him. He started to make the turn. Unfortunately, he didn't complete it. But I did. I wedged the front of my car under his truck. Now, I don't think he should have changed his mind midway into the turn. But the insurance company believed it to be "100% the fault of Laurie Sontag". That's a quote from their letter, which he framed and hung in his office. I don't visit him at work much--but I'm not bitter, really.
I have a reputation with my husband, the DMV and my insurance company for not being a great driver. So when my son yells out "Mom, that light was red!" I get irritated. I mean, you can still turn right on a red light, can't you? I call him he a back seat driver, and like any human with way too much testosterone, he thinks it's a compliment. He even gives me navigational directions. "Turn left, now right, good job, Mom." It isn't easy having a five-year old give you directions. It's worse when you have a sneaking suspicion he could drive well than you do if he could only reach the pedals.
At two, my son had a steering wheel on his car seat. One day he yelled "Move it, lady!" while I was trying to pass someone on the freeway. Having that as your son's first full sentence isn't something you want to tell your husband. "Oh, look dear, Jr. has road rage, isn't that cute?"
The other day we went to Bonfonte Gardens, an amusement park in Gilroy, California. My son's favorite ride? South County Backroads, of course. He went by himself in a gold corvette. I watched him look at the signs and honk at the gas station attendant. And I knew he was in another world. When I was little, I went to Disneyland--a lot. And my favorite ride was Autopia. I'd cruise along, pretending to be on the freeway. When I was on that ride, I was that most desired of desires--a grown-up. And when I watched my little boy driving along, I realized he was pretending to be a grown-up too. And, unfortunately, he was a better driver than I.
But today was the icing on my driving cake. Today we drove out to a friend's house out in the country. You know, beyond Home Depot. Anyway, they have a tractor. A big one. It bales and mows and rototills and who knows what else. So my friend got up on the tractor and allowed my son to drive. My son got to work the gears and turn and basically do everything but press the gas and brake. He was ecstatic. The testosterone levels went sky high. He even got to park the tractor in the barn. Now my son believes he should be able to drive the tractor every day and is trying to work out how he can convince my friend to let him run over a tree. All the way home I got the "Turn here, Mom. Mom, that light was yellow. Are you sure you can go on a yellow light?"
Yes, I am sure. Well, pretty sure. I mean, it was yellow when I entered the intersection, wasn't it? Oh, all right. I drive a white Blazer. Just stay out of my way when I'm making a right turn. I wouldn't want you to have to frame a letter from my insurance company.
Copyright 2001 Laurie Sontag