Marriage Moats-Student Driver

Published: Sun, 08/07/11

Marriage Moats

Caring for Marriage

Our sixth child has a learner's permit. You would think I was used to it by now. But I was hyperventilating in the back seat today between Pittsburgh and our house while John calmly talked him through the judgment calls around driving while sandwiched between ambitious truck drivers on the turnpike, in the rain and through tunnels.

I have amnesia about how the first five kids passed the test, though I remember one driving lesson with my daughter. It lasted about ninety seconds before she was crying and I was yelling. John took over. I am so skittish around novice drivers I am tempted to wear a gag to keep from yelping. Zack is almost seventeen, so it is time to log in the fifty hours he needs to even try for a license. But I keep wanting to figure out how to skip the whole section between non driver and experienced. Maybe by the time the twins are sixteen they will have perfected automated vehicles or we will have outlawed gasoline entirely.

There appears to be no substitute for time behind the wheel. I can prattle on about keeping your eyes on the mirrors and the speedometer and the cars in front of you simultaneously, but you have to actually practice. There were a few tense moments today as he experienced the reality of going too fast around a curve. I screamed. And prayed. John was more helpful and gave timely instructions.

"SLOW DOWN AND TURN THE WHEEL."

I fantasize about moving to a rural community where the only things teenagers drive are tractors, with nothing to run into but cows. But I remind myself that his older sibs are pretty competent drivers who have come in handy on long trips. Not only that it is easier to hold down a job when you can get there every day, and I do prefer that they be gainfully employed.

I wonder how my parents felt when I embarked on my marriage. Did they look at me preparing to move to another state and wonder if I would crash and burn?

"Maybe we should go with her."

Perhaps my mother contemplated sitting next to me at my dining room table, coaching me as John and I learned how to navigate conversations.

"Lori, you really need to slow down. Give him space to solve this one without nagging."

I did hydroplane a few times, arguing about taxes and toddlers. But somehow we kept our eyes on the road, and remembered to fuel up.

I wish I could have found a way to skip the messy part between being a non communicator and an experienced one. But then I might still be sitting across from my mother.

Photo by Chara Odhner

you can support us at