To My Teenager Who Just Learned to Drive:
Dear Beloved Teenager:
AAAAAAAAAA!
Sorry, I feel like I had to get that out of my system right here at the start. You should in no way take that as an indication of your driving ability. My screams are totally normal and unrelated.
But also, CURB! Watch out for the CURB!
You and I have been through so much together and I just wanted to take a minute to tell you how proud I am of you. When you were a toddler, just my little girl out on adventures, you and I had so much fun. We went to the World War I museum, toured a coffee factory when you were only two, and always stayed in our lane.
Yup, always stayed in our lane. Which in case you are wondering, is on the right side of the road. The right side, honey. THE RIGHT SIDE! Ignore my flop sweat. That just happens when you get old and your life flashes in front of your eyes.
When you entered kindergarten, I could see the woman you would one day become. A woman who was strong-willed and never let her ambition drift. Who took control of her direction and traveled the straight and narrow. A woman that always knew that it was not ok to slide in her responsibilities.
I guess what I’m saying here is to stop drifting out of your lane and aiming for other cars. We both see them coming, and the point is to avoid them, not drift into them. That’s better. Ignore their sign language.
I loved watching you thrive in middle school. What I was most proud of was how well you got along with everyone. For example, you never hit anyone. You didn’t hit kids that were getting off the bus. You didn’t hit adults that were crossing the street. No dogs that jumped out to scare you. You are such a kind person, and I appreciate that kindness and so do my insurance deductibles.
Now that you are in high school and learning how to drive, I find myself with mixed emotions. Some days I’m terrified that you are growing up and running stop signs. Other days I’m just scared of other people on the road. But mostly, I find myself missing the time we spent together. And also, I miss undented rims. I know, driving in snow is hard.
But I find real joy in witnessing you transform into a woman that will one day rule the world or make it pay for its insolence. Always remember to speak your mind, and yes, you can use all the colorful words that I taught you during driver’s training. Don’t tell your mom, though. In fact, it’s probably best we keep a lot of this conversation to ourselves. Your mom is already on anxiety medication and it’s probably best we don’t add to her condition.
Now as you go out into the world, please remember just a few things that your dear old dad had learned over the years.
- Confidence is key to becoming the person you want to be. For example, be confident if you take a speed bump at fifty miles per hour, my suspension is going to be wrecked.
- The road to life is full of ditches. Do your best to stay out of them.
- Stop! Stop! Stop! For the love for all that is good, please stop! And smell the roses from time to time.
I know that it’s hard to listen to your old man as you grow. We have had our ups and downs. You don’t like me telling you what to do, and I don’t like hit-and-run lawsuits. But it’s only because I want you to truly be independent in this world, and I am doing my best. So, when I tell you that you should slow down and not do that cool thing you saw on TikTok, it’s only because I love you. Squirrels are not points and defibrillators aren’t easy to use.
Now go out and live the life that you’ve worked so hard to build. I’ll always be here to help you along the way and bail you out of jail.
Good Luck Everyone,
Dad
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