Driving Miss Tess

"You know that you aren't driving with Tess to school this morning, right? She has her license now," said my wife as the cold splash of reality hit me.

I had gotten used to our morning routine on school days. I would get my tea, clean out the dishwasher, read the news on my iPad and impatiently wait for Tess to come downstairs with her backpack. She would drive us both to school, practicing and learning her first lessons of the school day behind the wheel.

My more experienced friends have often told me to tread lightly with a teenage daughter's emotions, outbursts and deadly silence. I've read books trying to understand my ineptitude in finding the right topics, questions and words that might make for a civil conversation. There have been a lot of slamming doors, screaming outbursts and tears (and that was just me :) ... Patience. Patience. Patience.

MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING

Over the last year of teaching Tess to drive, it has been very different. She has tolerated her father a bit more than usual, and we found common ground. We discovered a safe place (a black Toyota RAV4),... a neutral topic (driving)... and an appropriate tone (quiet, instructive), that we could both agree to. 

Our interests were aligned for the first time in years. She wanted her driver's license and access to a car. I wanted a peaceful and enjoyable time with my daughter. And, we all agreed that I was a better driving option than her mother, who did not have the nerves or restraint to drive with a teen.  

Teaching a teenager to drive can be a very stressful experience for everyone, but I was lucky with Tess (my daughter Emma was whole different experience). Tess was goal-oriented -- what will it take to get my license and more independence? Listen to dad? OK. Spend a few hours a week in the car with him? OK. Don't talk back? OK.

GROUND RULES

Our driving time together followed certain patterns and ground rules: 

-- I would always start with one half-joking/half-serious question: Are you mentally prepared to drive? I seriously wanted to know if that was her focus when she was getting behind the wheel. She shouldn't be distracted, tired or upset about something else if she was going to drive. If there were other things going on in her mind, that was okay, but it wasn't time to drive a car.  

-- Once we got in the car, we had Dad's annoying litany of checks. Glasses? (Put on your glasses). License? (Make sure you have your license) Phone? (Put it away, or connect it to the car for some low music and turn on Do Not Disturb); Seatbelts? (For you and your passenger). Mirrors. (Check all your mirrors and visibility). Gear (Let's go.). I eventually got the exasperated "Dad, I know" comment as I would sit in my passenger seat and go through the checklist, but my hope is that it runs through her head and stays with her even when I am not there. I repeated a lot of other checklists and tips that I hope she'll remember in the years to come -- Never be in rush to get to a red light.  Slow down ... Are you ready to turn? Then "Gas 'N Go," don't meander through an intersection. ... Don't crowd the car in front of you at a red light? It you can't see their rear tires, you're too close...

-- Speak softly and carry a Waze app. I grew up in Jersey City, living every day with loud noises and louder people, so my normal speaking voice can be a bit harsher than my children's genteel, suburban ears are accustomed to. "Dad, stop yelling," they will say. "I am not yelling. I am just speaking loudly to get my point across. You don't know what yelling is." When I was driving with Tess, I spoke as softly as possible and she actually listened. When I did raise my voice (to avoid death from an oncoming car), Tess would object, "You're yelling at me" and then I would quietly explain that I had nothing but my voice to help control this car -- and if she wasn't responding to my "gentle" instructions then all I could do was raise my voice until she listened.  We eventually reached an understanding. We also agreed I could use my Waze app -- even though it might annoy her when she was driving the same way to school every day -- because I wanted to watch her speed and know if there was any detours ahead.

Tess successfully passed her driver's test last week. I was incredibly proud of my "student," but a little sad for myself. Our driving lessons are over and this special "dad and daughter" time has come to an end. Stay safe, Tess. Indulge your Dad with a drive once in while.  It's my favorite place to spend time with you ... and on terms we both seem to like.  Love you!