One day last week when I was outside watching the cars go by, I turned my attention to a small black car stopped near our curb. A young girl got out of the passenger seat and skipped merrily over to the driver’s side. The driver opened the door and slowly stood up. He spoke to her briefly and then headed towards the other side of the car. How sweet! I thought. A dad is teaching his daughter how to drive!

I thought back to the time when I was about 14. My dad used to make me sit in the passenger seat while he drove, talking non-stop about defensive driving: looking out for the other guy as well as yourself. I learned about 2-way stops that other drivers assumed were 4-way, lane changers who didn’t signal, and kids dashing out from between parked cars. I assumed that my dad would be my driving instructor.

One day when I was 16, it happened. I drove my dad and his car for the first time – right into a peach orchard! I thought it was cool sitting there in a car underneath all those juicy peaches. But Dad was apoplectic. From then on, Mom took over my driving practice, guided by lessons from a driving school.

When my own 2 children started asking about driving lessons I thought about my dad. I turned to Young Drivers Of Canada. Their basic philosophy is defensive driving. You start by walking around your car checking for flat tires, doors ajar, and dirty windshields. Only then do you get into the car and fasten your seat belt. I can easily say that both of my adult kids are very safe drivers.

How was this young girl going to do?

The man opened the trunk and took out a cloth. He wiped the roof of the car, and then affixed a sign: Young Drivers of Canada. YEA! This instructor seemed serious. As soon as he got into the car, he began speaking and gesturing with his hands. I could tell by his gestures that he was pointing out features of the dashboard. First the windshield wipers went on and off. Then the turn indicators flashed, and the warning lights flashed. Finally and most important – the brake lights shone.

I wondered how the instructor was remembering everything. So I got out the binoculars and peeked. He had a clip board in his lap and was ticking off items as he went along. Smart guy. There is a lot of curriculum in teaching a new driver how to handle a huge lethal weapon. There are the mechanics of it all, including backing up, turning safely, and dealing with other vehicles. There are pedestrians looking at their phones instead of the road. There are little kids racing with one another on motorized scooters. Then there are the moral obligations of thinking on behalf of other drivers who are not paying attention, as my dad had taught me so well.

I watched the black car while the instructor finished his lesson. Then I waited for the girl to begin her new life. Suddenly – she stepped on the pedal and roared off. Good luck young driver. And slow down!

Sue