Driving Me Crazy

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I’m not sure which is harder… having your driver’s license taken away or having to tell your parents (the very ones who taught you how to drive in the first place) that it’s just not safe anymore for them to be behind the wheel. I’d say it’s a pretty good indicator after their second or third fender bender. You know, the ‘accidents’ that were caused because they couldn’t see just how close the car was in front of them and their reflexes were just a bit too slow. Or when they start making up silly excuses for why they don’t want to drive to the store (that’s at the end of the block):

1) I just got undressed OR
2) I’d have to get dressed OR
3) I just sat down OR
4) It looks like rain/snow 

Any way you look at it, it’s got to feel like your independence is at stake – just one more thing making you feel old and useless – and that, from then on, you’ll be dependent on someone else for yet another thing. As for that ‘someone else’ (let’s call her, Ellen), she’ll now be relegated to the status of permanent chauffeur. That means for everytime your parents need to:

  • Grocery shop
  • See the doctor
  • Pick up their meds
  • Get the newspaper (because whose parents read The Times online?)
  • Go to the library (because whose parents use a Kindle?)
  • Go to the bank (because whose parents bank online?)
  • Have lunch with friends
  • Visit their grandkids
  • Go to a funeral

So you stop and think: “whose idea was this again?” And then you realize… oh, yeah, it was mine!