The Road Test

We showed up at the driving school with all the necessary paperwork. Then there were forms to sign. As Jeremy scrawled his name, the examiner said, “That says you won’t be alone in a car with a girl until you’re 30.” Jeremy was so nervous, he didn’t even look up.

The road test went pretty well, although I won’t dwell on that frightening left turn in front of an oncoming truck. We drove a long way on the highway, the one driving experience Jeremy has had little of. When we finally returned to the driving school, the examiner recited such a litany of “things you need to work on” that Jeremy and I both thought he failed.

But he passed.

Then the examiner said, “Mom, you did a good job.” I sat up straighter, thinking he was going to compliment my driving instruction. “You didn’t scream,” he said.

On the way home, Jeremy had to drive along a tricky stretch of roadway where two lanes suddenly become one.
Me: Let that trailer go ahead of you.
Jeremy: I just passed my driving test, so I must have some level of ability, but you’re going to baby me forever.
Me: I still baby Sam.
Jeremy: sigh