The experience was so enjoyable for her and successful in generating happiness and goodwill with our daughter, that she felt...nay...she insisted that I should have the privilege of teaching the next one.
I was so grateful to her for allowing me the pleasure of having this experience. I bordered on envy as I heard tales from each day when they would get back and Nicki would tell me how it went. Such was the excitement that she could not keep her voice down while telling me.
I knew I could have the same blessed experience, plus, even do a better job teaching our next daughter. I mean...obviously. How many times have I backed into our neighbor's car or run into the side of our garage? I can count them on zero (000) fingers.
Now, my hope is that - with the assistance of Google - I can lay this out in a pictorial, of sorts. In order to apply for a driver's license, teens need 3.6 million hours of practice behind the wheel while having a learner's permit. At least, that's what it feels like to them. Then, after only 2 hours, it feels like it to the parents, as well.
Therefore, our daughter had the duty...even the honor of driving to school at 5:30 every morning. The bonus is that she was accruing night-time hours, which are supposed to account for about 20% of the required permit driving. Because...you know...it's still dark at that time.
We exited 95 southbound onto Las Vegas Blvd. By this point, I had only been through one roll of Charmin since we left the house. I had talked to her about how to maneuver the merge onto Las Vegas Blvd - using multiple senses (including Spidey Sense) to be aware of all the factors she would be encountering.
Of course, remember that it was dark - as in no sunlight. Here is what the oncoming street looks like (only dark...and no oncoming traffic - except for one car approaching beyond the overpass).
Using my calmest voice, I advised her to wait until the approaching vehicle passed. Apparently, I used too calm of a voice, because she kept us moving into the lane (the vehicle approaching us in the left lane and now at the intersection behind us - shown below right).
At this point, my voice became, oh, shall we say, a little less calm. Also, she was now becoming more aware of the car approaching and less aware of what was required of her: namely, finishing the turn into the right lane and staying out of the way of that other car.
Did you happen to notice was was in front of us? Because, suddenly, this was all I could see (without sunlight and the vehicle in front - you get that by now, right?):
Now, unable to use my calm voice, I could only use my "Holy Crap We Are Going To Die!" voice in an attempt to get her to turn into the left lane and not run onto the median and into the fence.
The approaching vehicle managed to miss us. And we missed that iron fence by no more than 2 centimeters (for Americans, that means a very small distance); the left tire bounding up onto the median and then back off as she moved into the left lane.
I was completely out of Charmin by that point.
Yes, I know that she was as scared as I was. And my yelling had not helped her any. She wanted to stop the car right where we were and be done driving. But now, it was time for me to find that calm voice again and cheerlead a little bit.
"It's okay, sweetie. We are alive and you didn't run into the fence. These things happen. We learn from them and then do better the next time."
Straight out of the "Lies Parents Say" Handbook. It's funny how you never get a chance to read it, but the lies come so easily when you need them.
I suppose they come easy because of how much we love them. We want to protect and build them up. Sometimes, that means coloring in the truth just a little bit.
