CHAUFFEUR

     As time marches on, it's only natural that those of us with children will be confronted with the inevitable fact that they will simply grow up.  Growing up means more freedom from mom and dad, interest in the opposite sex and many other things that make me stare in wonderment and think, "what was he/she thinking?!"
     I've been doing a whole lot of that kind of wondering lately.  It mostly centers around our fifteen-year-old son.  Apparently, when kids reach a certain age, their brain takes a siesta and doesn't awaken for several years.  My wife has always maintained that a person's brain doesn't fully develop until around age twenty-five.  Naturally, I always assumed that this particular argument was a convenient excuse for bad behavior.  Well, now I've began to change my way of thinking.  You see, a few weeks ago, our son Ryan, passed his learner's test and is now the family chauffeur.  He drives to the store.  He drives to the gas station.  He drives to church.  He drives when we don't even need to go anywhere.  He just loves to drive!  He's been driving for several years behind our home in the fields and woods and became a very capable driver.  However, traffic, stoplights, aggressive drivers and other obstacles make dodging lumbering cattle seem like a walk in the park.  I'm scared.
     I remember my father riding with me when I got my learner's permit.  I also remember the very icy stare from the passenger's seat when I didn't brake soon enough, or perhaps I nearly drove the speed limit.  I would simply look straight ahead, while I could sense the stare.  "Are you planning on ramming into that car?  Hit the brakes!" he'd bark.  Now, history is repeating itself.
     Our maiden voyage with Ryan at the wheel, consisted of a short trip to the gas station.  The short trip go buy gas was rather uneventful until he steered into the area where the pumps are.   "You stopping here?" I asked, puzzled as to why we were parked between two pumps with no possibility of having one of the hoses reach our car.
     "Yeah, that's what you do.  Right?" he asked, staring out of the wind shield careful not to make eye contact with me.
     I thought for a moment and wondered if he'd ever been with me when I bought gas for my car.  I was sure that he had in fifteen and a half years.  "No, that's not what I do!  The hose won't even reach us!  You're going to have to back up and pull closer to the pump."  I looked behind us and noticed a confused older man in a station wagon wondering what we were trying to prove.
    "OK fine, I'll back up," he replied as he shifted the car into reverse.
    "No!  There's a car behind us!  You'll have to pull forward and find another pump."
     Finally, we bought our gas, although after a circuitous route to finally arrive safely at a gas pump.
     On our next odyssey consisted of a leisurely ride around town with the whole family in tow.  He drove through the local park without incident and through the countryside with superior command of the vehicle.  I only gave the occasional icy stare, but for the most part he did fine.  Then, I made a simple request.   "Take us to Sheetz.  I need to put a little gas in mom's car."
     The boy stared at me like I had a horn growing out of my head.  "Uh, where's Sheetz again?"
     Cue the icy stare.  "What do you mean, where's Sheetz?!"
     "It's where it's always been!  We just went there yesterday!" I whined.
     "Yeah, but we drove from the house." he answered.
     The icy stare persisted.   "You've lived here for your entire life, and now you don't know how to get to the gas station?"
     "It's different when you're driving.  I never paid attention."
     Next, my wife chimed in.  "He's right, it is different when your a passenger as opposed to actually driving."
     The icy stare morphed into an all out grimace of the worst kind. I could feel my heartbeat as blood pulsed through a vein in my forehead.  "OK, drive.  I'll show you the way."
     We did make it to Sheetz and he sure enough, parked close enough for the gas hose to actually reach the car.  Progress.  My pinched face subsided although by then my head was throbbing.
     This evening, we had an all out gully washer of a rainstorm.  We'd heard that the stream which runs through the park had overflowed it's banks and had flooded most of the low lying areas to include the baseball fields.  "Lets ride over there and take a look!" Ryan chirped, sure he'd get some driving time in a monsoon.
    "Uh, maybe dad should drive.  It's raining pretty hard and you've never driven in rain like this," my wife said.
     "Nah, he'll be fine.  It's good practice," I answered while simultaneously donning my hat and a pair of flip flops.  So, off we went.
     I gave him the standard lecture about not travelling through water that was running over the road and the dangers of hydroplaning in heavy rain.  I had nearly completed saying the word 'hydroplaning', when he barreled through standing water causing my wife to hide her face and our daughter to pray aloud.  Thankfully, we finished our trip without incident and returned home.
     To be honest, he's doing a remarkable job driving.  There's still some kinks to work out, but we're hopeful that by the time he's driving on his own he'll be ready.  He's a great kid, I just hope that he can find the gas station, and when he does, there's an extra long hose just for him!