When is the last time you handed two tons of high-velocity machinery to your baby girl?
I did last night for the first time. Tomorrow my oldest turns 16yo so went out for a drive. I handed her the keys to my car and said, “You are driving.” “What?! Really?! I hate driving,” she retorted. “Nope. It’s time to get your confidence.”
Giving her the keys to my car is a surrendering. I surrender to the fact I raised this beautiful young lady and now will take major strides in my belief in her decision-making abilities, while subtlety looking left and right each time we shifted lanes.
The lack of any grand gestures on my part as we sped down I-75 at 70+ mph somehow symbolized my confidence in her driving. I trust the person she is becoming and I wanted her to know this. She asked questions about driving in real time. Funny how they naturally edge the speed up to 80 without thinking.
“How do you like driving two tons of high-velocity machinery at 70+mph down the highway?” She looked at me with a Mona Lisa smile.
Her lips were closed and the corners were gently upturned. Her eyes were full of expression. She had a need for speed, to borrow a great line from Top Gun.
Equally as important, I wanted the alone time with her. We had one of those good old fashion Sunday morning type of drives our grandparents used to have. We chatted about her interests, strengths and weaknesses, I told her how wonderful she is and how proud of her I am, we jammed music. She especially liked Surrender by Cheap Trick and the line, “Mommy's alright, daddy's alright, they just seem a little weird. Surrender, surrender, but don't give yourself away.”
I surrendered to her, her mom and myself.
The final lyrics to the song are, “We are all alright. WE ARE ALL ALRIGHT.” And that we certainly are.
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