There’s nothing like a new teen driver to turn the most atheist and agnostic person into a G-d-fearing bowl of jelly. Wild Thing turned 15 in May and got his learner’s permit then. WineGuy refused to drive with him at first, so I got stuck with the initial driving lessons. After the first lesson, I was willing to pay any amount of money to hire a driving instructor, but WineGuy said “no”. So, I took WT out driving a few times, mostly on deserted Sunday mornings when there were fewer targets on the road. WT went off to his summer program and returned, anxious to start driving again.
Good wife that I am, I volunteered WT to be WineGuy’s chauffeur to his daily wound care and other doctor appointments. WineGuy gave me a dirty look, but I just smiled and skipped away gaily while bluebirds flew out of my butt. Every day for the last week or so, WT drove WineGuy anywhere the daddy needed to go.
The family was brave enough to let WT drive us to Shabbat services yesterday and out to lunch today. I sat in the back seat with my lips clamped shut and my eyes hermetically closed. Moose sat next to me, whispering in my ear repeatedly, “Jesus, take the wheel.” I almost agreed with him, but we’re Jewish. I’m a fervent monotheist, but never in my life have I wished for an armful of idols, saints, and kachina dolls to which to pray. The silent
scream oratory went something like, “OMG.OMG.OMFG. Jesus Christ, slow down!!!”
We’re back home safely now, and Xanax is my best friend.