Yesssss!

I broke the law tonight.  I know a person shouldn’t readily admit that, especially on so public of a place as the Internet, but there it is.  I broke the law.  And I’d do it again.

I leave for Argentina in six weeks.  My family is sacrificing by giving me the freedom to live in a foreign country for half a year, learning the language and culture.  As D-day (“Departure” Day) approaches, my thinking has begun to shift from what I won’t be able to provide for them in person, to what I will miss from them.  My first-born, especially, has been on my mind.

My girl is confident and independent.  Like most 14-year-olds, she knows it all.  Except, she really is brilliant.  I usually think she’ll be the one who survives my absence the best– mother easily replaced by friends.  She surprised me recently by transferring into my high school class.  I had thought she wanted distance, yet she chose to spend a little more time with me before I go.  I get to start each work day with her.  It’s like three whole months of Take Your Daughter to Work.  I am blessed.   And cursed.

Cursed because now my head is filled with dread thinking about the big memories I am going to miss.  I won’t be there for her cheerleading try-outs.  She made it last year, and I think she’ll do it again, but I hate not being able to watch her practice.  She has a steady boyfriend too.  I know teenage romance can change with the breeze, I don’t think this one will anytime soon.  Did I mention he’s a junior?  A junior who will likely want to go to Prom in April.  I actually get a pain in my chest knowing that I won’t be able help her pick out a dress, arrange for hair and make-up, nor snap those pictures.  She’s only a freshman; I didn’t think that I’d miss her first prom.  She also turns 15 in June.  Unfortunately, I knew I’d miss that birthday, but I had forgotten about teaching my daughter how to drive.

Funny thing about her and driving.  You see, she has broken the law too.  She has, through charm and tenacity, taught herself to drive… other people’s cars.  My car, my 6-speed Mini-Cooper S that she helped me pick out, is uncharted territory for her.

My girl asked me to dinner tonight, and I asked her for an hour afterwards.  I promised her she would like the surprise I had in store for her.  As we drove slightly outside of town, she apprehensively asked me, “Are you sure I will like this?…”

I down-shifted, pulled onto the dirt road that led into the empty field, and yanked up the parking brake.  I turned to her and said, “It’s time for you to learn how to drive a stick.”  I ate up every nanosecond as disbelief, fear and excitement spread across her face.

We switched spots.  I watched my tall girl sit in the driver’s seat and begin inching it forward.  I told her to press the clutch in all the way and adjust the seat some more.  We talked about the touch of the clutch and the feel of the gas pedal.  I showed her where reverse is (on a Mini, it’s easily confused with first gear) and how to take off the parking brake.  Finally, I told her to expect the car to jump and stall.  A lot.  The only way to learn how to drive a manual is with loads of experience.

For the next 30 minutes, we did exactly that.  I sat grinning from ear to ear as my Mini suffered through the abuse of one stalled engine after another. I giggled at my daughter’s sheer frustration of not being able to smoothly drive the car.  I told her she only had to do this as long as it was fun.  Then it happened.  Gas was gently applied, the clutch was slowly released, and we glided forward!  She shifted into second and bumped along until the road ran out.  I would have braked, but she chose to stall.  I completely agreed with her decision, remembering how confusing it was when you first attempt to work three foot pedals.

We broke the law tonight; my growing girl driving illegally with me, an approving accomplice.  I can’t wait to do it again… on a hill!