Teenage Drivers: The Road to (Mild) Panic

By George Howe

Well, it’s finally here. Not that I needed another thing to keep me up at night but Cali turned 16 this past summer and with it came a set of car keys. Yup! And I thought boys were going to be my biggest nightmare. It doesn’t seem that long ago that we were watching Disney movies on the couch, or teaching her how to tie her shoes, and maybe, just maybe, clean her room. Now, Tanis and I are supposed to trust her with 2 tons of steel, a Bluetooth connection, a busy social calendar, and the power to merge onto a highway. Dios mio! 

You can’t say we haven’t had time to prepare for this but like most things in life it just sort of sneaks up on you. Kind of like that time when Cali was 1 day old….and then she was 5,840 days old (16). Between then and now a lot has happened, mostly me aging so much that I’ve now gone to full bald-head mode without remembering what a bottle of shampoo actually costs. That, and the car that “Gubba” just gave to her for her 16^th birthday. A used ORANGE Jeep Compass. Perfect, we’ll see her coming from a mile away.

But thankfully we are just beginning this journey, the “learner’s permit” phase. I’m going to stay optimistic and hope that our parking lot practice sessions go well, maybe even a great bonding experience. And as much as I love Cali and all of her friends, driving is completely different from when I started, 1982 to be exact. We didn’t have any (many) distractions. We had driver’s education but half my friends, including myself, just hopped behind the wheel and “figured it out.” I certainly don’t recall any “supervised driving hours”, at least not with an adult. I used to take my mother’s car and drive around town for practice….WITHOUT my mother. That was the 80’s though, when everything was completely legal until you got caught. 

Today’s teenage brains are still developing - especially the parts responsible for judgment and impulse control. And that’s the part that scares me. Teenagers are basically smartphones with emotions - sometimes connected, often buffering. To them, speed limits are “vibes,” stop signs are “suggestions,” and gas prices are “your problem.” So far each lesson has ended the same way, Cali says, “that went great!” while I reach for the stress ball that I’ve stored in the glove compartment. 

Teaching a teenager how to drive is like a full-body, five-senses survival experience. You suddenly notice EVERYTHING. Stop signs a half mile away. Every honk signs like a personal attack. The distinct scent of overheated brakes. The iron grip of your dashboard. How many times have you put your foot on the brakes only to realize there are NO brakes on the passenger side. I’ve never prayed harder….or realized how many things in Pembroke can be hit. 

Eventually, she’ll calm down. The wild swerves will become smooth turns, the panicked gasps become calm sighs, and I’ll stop gripping the armrest every time she comes to a red light. One of these days in the very near future, she’ll even drive alone…while I track her on Life 360 and pray to every saint of safe driving! And the car may never smell normal again, but she’s becoming a capable adult. One U-turn at a time.