Eldest daughter passed her driver's ed test last month and now has her learner's permit. I still cringe each time we head for the garage and she asks, "Can I drive?" It is not normal for me to sit in the passenger seat. I completely understand how this is a necessary giant step for her to take that ultimately leads to her independence. It is good for her, but I (secretly, of course) do not enjoy this part of the growing up process.
My Dad recently sent me a photo of the first car that I drove at 16. I remember my mom saying how comfortable she felt with two tons of Detroit steel wrapped around her children. The car was a 1964 silver anniversary Dodge which sported push button auto transmission. It was not fuel efficient and my friends called it the 'Blue Bomb' because it had a little oil burning problem that left a trail of blue smoke wherever I spun my wheels.
