Gird your loins, America. Build the walls high around your abodes and persons. And if all else fails, run for the hills.
The Boy has passed the written portion of the driving test and has his permit. He is out on the road as we speak with his father in the passenger seat, because his mother has a deep-seated fear of dying in a car crash while he's driving.
My reasoning is simple. He's been of age to get his permit since he turned fifteen and a half. He could have been driving with a licensed adult since last June. However, he chose to wait until this past week to even try to pass the test for the first time. Before that he never showed any interest whatsoever in getting behind the wheel. He didn't even want to put the car in the garage or warm it up or even look at it unless he was being taken somewhere.
We're considering a therapist. For us, not him.
However, now that he has the permit you can't keep him away from any vehicle with four wheels and a motor that seats more than one passenger side by side. He salivates at the thought of being the master of his fate, the captain of his ship. He thinks of the required adult as little more than a first mate. However, after today's little outing there may be a mutiny.
There was a four-way stop that snuck up on him while driving with his father today. According to First Mate Hubster, The Boy narrowly missed running straight through it. Of course, it wasn't HIS fault...he was just busy trying to keep the car from swerving. He couldn't be bothered with pesky STREET SIGNS.
This is the of stuff of which heart attacks are made. And this is why his father will be doing the majority of training this particular driver.
Because if it was me? There would be no shortage of eggs.
I'm the chicken.