Learning to drive is a milestone. Getting your driver's license is another.  It is a sign of coming of age and a monumental leap towards independence.  Exciting times for young adults and parents alike.  A surge of adrenaline flows in both albeit for different reasons. 

My parents owned a Black Ford Consul which my father taught me to drive on old country roads out behind our local hospital.  That is where I learned as much about the patience of a father as I did about driving a standard.  More actually.  It was what kept me going when in time I got to teach my sons to drive.  However, they had a luxury I did not...that of learning with an automatic transmission.

Had my father already known how uncoordinated I was going to be, he probably would have bought a different make and model, if such was available then.  He did get some warning during my attempts to find a suitable instrument for me to play in the high school band.  Anything that required the kind of "pat your head and rub your tummy" kind of synchronicity was a resounding failure.  Finally, out of sheer frustration, I was handed the clarinet.  By keeping both hands in the same general space, doing the same general movements I was able to produce the right kind of sounds.  A win-win for me and those who endured the practicing.

Such a suitable instrument was not available for my driving lessons.  A standard it was on which I'd learn.  And there was so much learning to do.  Holding my left foot on the clutch and my right food on the brake was good.  Putting my hands on the steering wheel was good: one at ten o'clock and one at two o'clock.  So far so good.  Now for the pre-take off check; indicator on? Check.  Rear view mirror? Check.  Blind spot? Check.  So good so far.

Then the impossible was expected.  My father calmly instructed me to ease my left foot up off the clutch while pressing down gently on the gas peddle with my right foot. At the same time gradually turn the steering wheel to the left with my left hand and place my right hand on the gear shift in readiness to go to second gear.  I think I should have had a lesson in verbs before I even got in the car.  Easing off and pressing down gently with both feet at the same time?  Remember music class.  It wasn't pretty.

The car lurched forward and stopped. My father lurched forward and smacked his nose, his poor small non-Byronic nose, on the dash.  I cried out in horror but he calmly turned to me and said, "let's try that again."  And we did; again and again until I married a man with an automatic, left home and got my license.  I know my father was as excited about me getting married as I was, albeit for different reasons.

Not only did I now have a husband but also a new driving instructor; but not quite so patient.  But then, I wasn't expected to drive much.  The occasional trips to the store for those absolute necessities like bread and milk was the extent of my behind the wheel experiences.  Highway driving was not a consideration. That suited me as I was terrified of that yellow line magically shifting to the wrong side of the car.

Years later I became a single mother of four young boys.  He got the car and I got the TV set.  Fearing that I would stay planted and grow roots, I went out and bought myself my first pre-owned little blue Acadian.  Automatic, of course.  This time I was the driving instructor as I ventured forth and conquered the yellow line. 

Fear gave way to competence which gave way to confidence which gave way to patience.  As much as my father had? I think not.

Note to Self…  Learning to face fears, no matter what drives me to do so, sets me free.  Oh, the places my children and I have seen; the people we've met.