Car Envy

I suppose it is too much to ask teenagers to be grateful for what they have.
I was reminded of this yesterday when Tucker was complaining about the black car. He drives the black car, a 1999 Ford Taurus, to school and back most days. Earl and I, along with Grace, juggle the other car, which mostly works because I work days and Earl works evenings.
Tucker, 17, sees it as a necessity to have a car even though most places he ventures to, like school, are about a mile away. I understand that driving has to do with status rather than need.
Yesterday though, as he started to ask when we were going to replace the black car, complaining about the squeak when he turns the wheels, or the sun roof that doesn't work, and the way it vibrates on the highway (which he rarely goes on), I started to get fed up.
"You know, you just came back from France and New York, so money is a little tight," I told him.
It's true that he helped pay for the France trip, and the trip to New York was required as part of his Singers class, but the family still made financial sacrifices. And this at a time that my second job has dried up due to low enrollment at one of the colleges where I teach.
My feeling was, if he didn't want to drive the black car, then he could walk.
I was complaining to my mom later about how ungrateful Tucker was when I remembered a story about myself at his age.
My parents bought each kid a used car for their 17th birthday. They started the trend with my sister, so continued with each of us. My car was a dark green pinto.
I worked at Kings Island amusement park during my high school summers so I had to take the freeway to get there. As I pulled onto the freeway, getting up speed, the Pinto stalled. I was able to coast to the side and sat in the car wondering what I would do. This was long before the days of cell phones. I was just bracing myself for a walk down the highway and exit ramp, when a car stopped in front of me.
My older brother.
He drove me home and my dad took care of the Pinto. He had work done and swore that the car was road ready.
I refused to drive it again.
"I will not drive that Pinto," I stated indignantly. I was an insufferable teen and my parents, who had lost my sister around the same age, indulged me.
My dad found a blue Mustang II that I drove through the rest of my high school and college years.
So as I complained about Tucker, I recalled that insufferable teenager that I was. I hope I've changed a lot since then and I'm sure Tucker will too.
But he still has to drive the black car.

Independent Drivers

Today, my youngest got his driver's license. So that's it. Five licensed drivers in the house, counting me and my husband, and only 2 cars.
But two of them (kids, not cars) will be off to college in the fall so we'll be back to 3 drivers at home.
The good news is, I have one more person to send out to buy milk when I'm too lazy to go

New Drivers and Angry Moms

My 15-year-old son got his temporary driving permit on a Friday, and, unfortunately, my 17-year-old son totaled his car three days later on a Monday. Thus, the number of driving hours for the 15-year-old are limited. We only have one car right now, and who wants to risk that one car with a brand new driver. He's a good driver for someone with no experience, still, it feels pretty iffy.
Yesterday after school, after he informed me that he didn't like the stir fry I planned to make for dinner, he begged me to take him to buy a sub sandwich. Plus, he would drive.
Sometimes I'm vulnerable to these arguments. My boys never seem to find enough food in our house to fill their ravenous bellies and send sustenance to their quickly growing limbs. I agreed to go with him and pay. I sat passively in the passenger seat while he drove the few miles to the sub shop. I gave him a 10-dollar bill and sat listening to NPR while he went in to get his sandwich.
On the drive back, he was turning left and he over turned, a little too far and came close to a car that was waiting to turn left.
I sucked in air through my teeth and made that sound a person makes right before something bad is going to happen. I'm pretty sure it was barely audible from his seat.
"You oversteered back there. You need to straighten out the wheel sooner," I said.
"I know, Mom, but when you make that noise it makes me panic and then I'm going to crash," he said.
I hadn't raised my voice, but the sucking in of air would drive him to crash?
His words. His tone. The thought that I drove with him to the sub shop and paid for his sub while he complained about me breathing. They all pissed me off.
"Fine. I guess you should just drive with Dad instead of me," I declared.
"I guess I will," he replied.
And we didn't speak the rest of the night except after swim practice when he asked why I was so mad.
I told him I was tired of his rudeness, but then I kissed him goodnight and he said, "If you aren't so mad at me in the morning, will you wake me up early?"
I took the boys to get coffee before school this morning.
I drove.

All in a Muddle

I think I spend my life saying things will settle down when...
But I need to be honest, things are not going to settle down.
Lately, things have been more hectic than usual. I've been mired in numbers trying to get Grace's trip to France organized. Maybe she'd fly over with Sheila when she went for fashion week. Maybe Earl and Spencer would go over with her for a week? Would she go alone? Would they fly into Milan and visit the Italian cousins before going to Paris? Maybe Frankfurt would be better. Maybe they'd fly into Milan and fly out of Paris. But Earl would be leaving much earlier than Grace so how would I make sure they sat together on the flight out?
I spent days on travel websites. I'd go from Kayak to Priceline to Expedia then to the airline's website: British Air, Air France, American Airlines. I had every possibility written in a little notebook. Then we had to add in train fares and hotels. My mind spun with all the possibilities.
In the midst of it, I started another semester of school at one college and was busy moving toward exams in the other. That's when Labor Day arrived. A time to rest and catch up.
Only, as I was fixing brunch for Earl's family on Monday morning, I received a text that my friend from work, Rini, had a stroke. I made plans to go visit her the minute the relatives departed at 12:45. At about noon, I was walking around the block with baby Caroline when I saw what looked like Spencer standing at the intersection at the top of the hill. That tall boy with the cut out tshirt was definitely my son and he was standing beside his car talking on the phone. Then I saw the police car and the flashing lights. Oh, no. Had he gotten a ticket?
I left Caroline with Grace and raced ahead. The front end of his car lay on the street and green radiator fluid leaked onto the street in front of it.
He had an accident while crossing the side street to our house. The small truck he hit looked fine. A little scraped on the side.

Spencer told me later that the truck basically drove over his front end. But the accident was his fault. Now we started dealing with car insurance and juvenile court to face the ticket for failure to yield.
In spite of the accident, I headed to the hospital at 12:45 and saw Rini. I feel so helpless when people are sick. There's rarely anything I can do to help. So I jumped right in and told Rini that I would grade her remaining essays and give the final exams for her classes.
Well, I'm getting tired just telling this story. Picture me chained to a computer grading papers, searching for airfares while looking for used cars to replace the totaled car, when suddenly I remember that I have to figure out the cell phone dilemma for Grace too, so I start researching that.
On Tuesday morning when the English department called in a panic that no one had finished Rini's grades, I jumped on the computer again rather than going out for coffee with Grace and finished Rini's grades.
Grades are done for one college job. Tickets are purchased for the trip to France. The phone is ordered. The insturance money for the car is in the bank, although we are still a one-car family for now. Rini remains in the hospital waiting for a spot in a rehab center.
Now that I think about it, it seems a little selfish to complain about all the work I have to do because my friend had a stroke and my daughter's headed to France for a few months. I'm grateful that I can help out my friend and that I have a daughter who's about to experience the trip of her life.
I'll quit whining when things settle down...

Waiting in the Heat

It was almost a perfect ballet. Entrances, jettes, and exits perfectly timed. Until a trip, smack, failure. Which is why I am standing in front of a restaurant in the 95-degree heat typing a blog post on my cell phone.
These are the chances we take in our attempt to be a two-car family with four drivers.
Earl loses out most the time, riding his bike to work in the heat or hoisting his bike onto the front of a city bus then riding home on the bikepath late at night as bunnies swerve into his path.
I usually drive to work. When the weather is perfect, I'll ride my bike. If the car is needed, I'll get dropped off and picked up.
Grace's lifeguarding job is far enough away that she needs to drive or get a ride. She also takes a class two nights a week and drives to that.
Spencer should walk. He rarely leaves our little burg and his job is less than a mile away. But he has claim to the extra car because he helped pay for it. Officially, we call it "Spencer's car."
I was the only one available to attend Earl's sister's birthday dinner. This is a milestone birthday for her, grandmother of Caroline. Even though everyone else in the family had some place to be, I carefully orchestrated a driving schedule.
Earl took the bus to work. Spencer drove to work, and Grace dropped me at the shopping center, adjacent to the restaurant, an hour early so she could get to class on time.
I browsed the Barnes & Noble for an hour then crossed the baking parking lot to the restaurant.
A text from Tucker came in as I walked. "Throwing up. Terrible headache."
"Sorry," I texted back.
"Nosebleed now," he texted next.
"You r falling apart," I responded. Then I called him. "You want me to come home?"
"No, I'm okay," he said.
I entered the coolness of the restaurant -- a faux Italian and looked forward to some sort of sunrise cocktail and maybe a Caesar salad.
I told the hostess I was meeting a group. "Could it be a different name?" she asked me. "How about Jenny?"
No, that wasn't the group I was meeting.
I called a niece to double check. I knew I was at the right restaurant. Then I realized I was at the wrong location. The other location was about a 15-minute drive away.
Oops. I didn't have a car.
So I called our neighbor Sandy and asked for a ride home. The driving plan failed with my location mix up. Luckily, Sandy didn't mind coming to pick me up, which is why I was standing in the heat in front of a restaurant where I would not get a nice Italian meal or a sunrise cocktail, but I did come home to make sure my little boy was okay.
No one said it would be easy having two cars in a 4-driver family. Good thing we have reliable neighbors.

Saturday Snapshots

Saturday Snapshot is hosted by Alyce of At Home With Books. If you are interested in participating, just post a photo (new or old), but make sure it's not one that you found online. Add your link to Alyce's Saturday post for all to enjoy.
On our trip to Florida, we crossed the Sunshine Skyway Bridge which connects St. Petersburg to the mainland south of it near Sarasota.
I know that these giant sails on the bridge have a structural purpose, but I love the way they look soaring into the air.

Driving across the bridge in a convertible is one of my fondest memories. We didn't have a convertible this time, but we still got some great photos of the bridge.
I love driving across and seeing the pelican cruising before they dive into the water. Tampa Bay is on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other. We've seen huge barges chug along and seen dolphins flip out of the water as we've driven over the bridge.
Plus, look at that sky! Maybe the impressionists should try the light in Florida next time.

Be The Cone

Last night, I stood in a parking lot while a car drove toward me and maneuvered within inches. After a brief stop, the car reversed and tried to retrace its tracks, missing me and crushing a traffic cone behind it. This was one of my less demanding, yet grueling jobs as a mother. My daughter was practicing for the maneuverability test so she could pass her driving test and I was one of the five cones.
Some parents are so nervous about their kids driving. Maybe because my daughter is not a risk-taker, I feel a little more secure, but I know that when she gets behind the wheel and pulls onto the road, I can't protect her anymore. Even riding with her while she practiced driving, I knew if things went really wrong, there was nothing I could do.
Her appointment was at 4 p.m. and we showed up early. A glitch. Her temporary permit was issued exactly one year and a day before. It had expired. The examiner sent us next door to get a new temporary permit and I heard her tell someone on the phone that they were scheduling appointments in two weeks. We waited in line for about 40 minutes and paid $22 for a new temporary permit that she had for less than 24 hours.
The examination office was closing when we left with her temps. Maxwell, one of the officers, told us we were too late to take the written test. My daughter had to retake the written test because of her expired temps.
"Come early. Saturday is a zoo," Maxwell warned.
So, at 8 a.m., we were in line for the written test. After she passed, we lay in wait for Maxwell as he returned from a driving test.
"Do you remember us from yesterday? Can you fit us in?"
He was a nice guy and he surreptitiously worked her into his driving schedule. She came back from the car smiling. And we stood in another line until she emerged with another license, this one letting her take to the roads alone.
So this afternoon, at 12:30, she got into her dad's red convertible and she drove away. Only three miles to work and three miles back. But she was alone in the car. Without the radio on if she was following my rules.