Driving Lessons

I am 15 1/2. I'VE GOT MY PERMIT!! Yes, I am on my way to becoming a licensed driver! I am going to jump into a sports car and drive around town, my hair whipping in the wind, tunes cranked and looking awesome. Reality check...you don't have a sports car/convertible and your hair is pixie short. No wind whipping for that style. The first time I got behind the wheel of my mom's car was the day I got my permit. I immediately broke out into a cold sweat and started hyperventilating. So much for looking cool behind the wheel of a car. My mother drove a 1984 Renault Encore- who's tagline was The One To Watch! (my dad added the "fall apart" after it started nickel and diming them)It was a tiny black 4 door hatchback with a tan interior and an awesome tape deck. At least I could crank the tunes! No such luck. First thing my mom did was turn off Huey Lewis and the News "Sports" cassette and turn to face me. "No music until you have learned to drive without distractions." What?!? This was not looking as cool as I thought it would. Ok, get into driver's side, adjust seat, buckle up, adjust mirrors (check teeth and hair), put car into drive with my foot on the brake, look to my left, my right, my left again, turn on left blinker and pull carefully into the road. Ah, if it was only that easy. After checking my mirrors, I put the car into drive...and stomped on the gas. I peeled out, gravel flying everywhere on the right side of the car, squealing the tires when I hit the pavement, sped along for about 20 yards and then slammed on the brakes rocking the car back and forth for several seconds. Shaking, I turned to my mom, eyes huge and expecting to get the reaming of a lifetime. All I got was, "Gently." Seriously?! I should have heard at least a bloodcurdling "we're all gonna die" scream while digging her fingernails into the dashboard and bracing her feet on the floorboards. Instead, I got one word, "Gently." I will admit, she was a little white in the face, but she looked utterly calm and serene as she spoke to me. "Gently." I checked my mirrors again, gently took my foot off the brake and gently touched the gas. This time, the car slowly crept forward onto the road. I concentrated on keeping the car straight and gently giving it some gas. The little hatchback puttered along happily. As I approached a turn, I heard my mom again, "Gently." I eased off the gas and carefully applied the brake easing into the turn. Coming out of the turn I touched the gas again. "Gently." I maneuvered the car down the road, past the park, over the bridge, around the curve by the church, across the small bridge and to our lane. Switching on the right turn signal I pulled into the lane toward our house. I drove along the lane and pulled up into our driveway. Putting the car into park and switching off the engine, I turned to my mom. "Well," I said, "that, was an adventure." My mom smiled somewhat shakily at me. "It was, wasn't it?" I smiled at her, feeling rather proud of myself and my first driving lesson. I was going to do just fine as long as I remembered my mother's softly spoken word, "Gently." I gave myself a mental pat on that back. In the next instant, my proud balloon was deflated. "Next time," she said, gently, "you are driving with your father."