Well, it's official: my son is a licensed driver (as evidenced by the victory cupcakes his stepmother made to mark the occasion). On test day, he was nervous despite the fact that we spent the previous Saturday driving the streets around that DMV location.* We got there early so we could scope out the situation, see who the examiners were, etc., . . . all the things you usually do to combat nervousness but end up increasing it. We sat in the parking lot long enough to see a couple of people go through the process, and once my son realized that the examinee two spots ahead of him--who had problems parking the car, problems with "gizmo" control, and problems with the English language--passed the test, he relaxed almost to the point of taking a nap.Almost. His turn came quickly after that, and 14 minutes later, it was over.
As the dad, I'm supposed to be scared about this. I'm supposed to be nervous and anxious and worried. Let's review, however, the path my son and I have traveled on this: there was day after day in the parking lot, learning to operate a stick shift (which even he will admit seems like six years, not six months, ago); there was the paperwork and studying for the written test to obtain his permit; there was the $1000 I plunked down for the exhaustive driving school, which included learning to control skids (during which he was surprised to find that he had the most experience behind the wheel of all the students, some of whom were using their parents' trucks and SUVs with almost no road experience); and we had the hours and hours of on-the-road practice with me in the passenger seat of my own car.
Let's be honest: I trust my son. If I'm worried or scared at this point, I have bigger problems than his driving ability. Besides, he still asks to use the car each and every time. I'm going to trust him until he gives me reason not to.
*Of course, we scouted out all the wrong streets; I watched him drive off with the examiner going the opposite direction. So much for recon.
