Driving: Watching Sister Make a Fool of Herself and How My Parents Taught Me...

Lately I’ve been carrying around small notebook and writing down any good ideas I think of for my blog. This is a good thing because I don’t sit in front of my computer with writers block because I can’t remember that really funny thing Boyfriend said last night. The notebook is a bad thing because last night I dreamed that something slightly… okay not slightly… really embarrassing happened while I was trying to buy a bottle of Disaronno Amaretto (which I don’t even drink) and after I left the store in shame (without my alcohol) I thought to myself, in the dream, “well at least this will make a good blog post.” Swear to God people… I am now putting myself in awkward embarrassing situations in my dreams so you people can have a laugh and I can quietly crawl under a rock and die. FML…

But, If I’m going down, I’m taking my sister with me!

Today I’d like to write about that oh so important time in a young girls life when she learns how to drive.

But first I want to write about when my sister learned to drive.

My sister started learning to drive when we lived in Alabama. I’m sure I don’t know the whole story of every time Mom and Dad would take her out on the road, but I do remember a few things. The first is that I was extremely jealous of my sister getting behind the wheel. Looking back this is pretty funny. I mean I was in 6th grade, so I was nowhere near being old enough to learn to drive. I didn’t care that my sister was dating and I wasn’t. I didn’t care that she was in high school and I wasn’t. I didn’t care that she played an instrument and I didn’t. But, the first day mom pulled over at the entrance of our neighborhood and turned to Sister and asked if she wanted to drive the rest of the way, I was pissed! Driving, like most things adult get to do, looked like so much fun and at that point in my life I was pretty sure my sister thought I was the biggest nerd, so I immediately started hating her for being able to drive.

My sister learning to drive was hilarious. Her first big obstacle was stop signs. Sister would start slowing down for a stop sign like a block before the stop sign, and this is our neighborhood when she was only going 15 MPH anyway. Then she would dramatically come to a stop about ten feet behind the actual stop sign, meaning she couldn’t see around the corner to see if it was okay to continue after the stop. OMG my mom used to get so frustrated…

Mom: “Daughter! Keep driving forward! You are nowhere near the stop sign!”

Sister: “Stop yelling at me mom! I am right at the stop sign! If you count the nose of the car I am practically at the sign!”

Me: (to myself) “Haha, she sucks at driving. When I get to drive I’ll be awesome.”

Then I remember my sister having a very hard time judging the distance between her car and other cars on the road. This happened one time when my whole family was out driving to who knows where and Sister got to drive. We were driving on some pretty little country road with only two lanes. And my sister kinda drove like this…

Dad: “Daughter! Drive in your lane!”

Sister: “I am in my lane! If I get any closer to the side of the road I’ll be in the bushes.”

Dad: “That’s what I meant! You’re driving on the shoulder of the road. Move the car closer to the center.”

Mom: “Now, Husband, don’t yell, but really Daughter you’re driving in the dirt and it’s not good for the tires. Now gently ease the car back into the center of the road.”

Sister: “I’m on the road! If I get over anymore to the left I’ll hit the oncoming traffic!”

Dad: “You are nowhere near the oncoming traffic! In fact I think the oncoming traffic might flag us down to make sure our car is okay because you are driving off the road.”

Sister: “Stop yelling at me!”

Dad: “I’m not yelling at you. Drive better!”

Mom: “Let’s all just calm down…”

Sister: “Mom!”

Dad: “Daughter!”

Me: (to myself) “Hahaha!!!”

Like I said, I don’t know all the gory details of Sister learning to drive, but I do remember mine.

First of all I didn’t get to learn how to drive at 15 and take my driver’s test at 16 like most normal teenagers. We lived in Germany and the driving age there is 18 or 17 if you already had a license in the states. I did not. So I got in a few more years of being driven around by my parents and begging my friends for rides. The very first time I ever drove a car was in Germany when Ex-Boyfriend Matt asked if I wanted to drive his car in this old abandoned lot.

Ex-Boyfriend Matt: “Hey, you’ve driven before, right? Wanna drive my Opel around this abandoned parking lot?”

Me: “Of course I’ve driven before! Hell yes I wanna drive! Pull over and hand over the keys!”

Ex-Boyfriend Matt: (pulling the car over and getting out of the driver’s seat) “Yeah, this sounds like a great idea and not at all irresponsible of me!”

Me: “Buckle up kid. I’m a pro.”

Yeah, I wasn’t and Ex-Boyfriend Matt quickly demanded I pull over and give his keys back and he never ever asked me if I wanted to drive again. But the first time driving with my father was the best time ever and if by “best time ever” I mean horrible.

My dad told me one day during the week when I was a junior in high school that he wanted to start teaching me to drive. My first thought was “AWESOME I FINALLY GET TO DRIVE!” and my second thought was, “wait Lemon Lady when your father tries to teach you to do something and you’re not good at it you get very defensive and end up in tears with your father swearing at a very high decibel that no, he’s not in fact yelling at you… remember when he took you to the driving range and tried to teach you how to hit a golf ball?” But that thought was quickly covered up by, “AWESOME I FINALLY GET TO DRIVE!”

That weekend Dad drove me to the high school parking lot right there on base and handed over the keys to his Honda Accord. I got behind the wheel and waited patiently as he went over what every single button, knob, and gage’s purpose was. I waited while he spent 10 minutes making sure my seat and mirrors were adjusted perfectly. After what seemed like an eternity behind the wheel he finally let me turn the car on and drive down the parking lot row.

Me: (to myself) “OMFG! I’m driving!!!”

Dad: “Good job. Keep her at the same constant speed and get ready for to turn left at the end of the row and drive down the next row.”

Me: “Okay Dad, sure.” (to myself) “Yeah I’m going to turn this car. Watch me turn this fine Japanese automobile. You like that Accord? You like that nice and easy left hand turn?”

Dad: “Nice turn.”

Me: “Thanks.” (to myself) “Who has two thumbs and is the best left hand turner driving this car at this very moment? Me, that’s who.”

Dad: “Okay and pull to a stop right here.”

Me: (stopping) “Okay. Can we do right hand turns now? I’m sure I’ll be even more awesome at right hand turns.”

Dad: “Nope, let’s work on backing into this parking space.”

Yeah, you read that right. I had been driving for all of 37 seconds and my dad has me stop and try to back into a parking space! BACK INTO A PARKING SPACE!!! I didn’t even know if I could perform a right hand turn! For all I knew I was the Zoolander of driving and my father wanted to start on backing into parking spaces! Yeah, about 30 minutes later we were back home with me wanting to wash the tears off my face and my father wondering either A, “Why didn’t I have boys?” or B, “How F-ing hard is it to back into a parking space? What’s her problem?”

After that my mom and the driving school taught me to drive my senior year. I turned right on red without stopping once while driving with Mom and she freaked out. (Hello, we were fine…) But then she hurt herself and I had to drive her across San Antonio to the hospital before I had really driven on the highway in driving class. So, yup, that’s how my parents taught me to drive… backing into spaces before I knew what a turn signal was and driving my paralyzed mother, who could only lay in the front seat and pray I knew where I was going, to the Emergency Room when I should have been in 1st period.

I love my parents.