We recently got rid of one of our vehicles. The engine stopped while I was driving home. We got it towed to a tire store and swapped the tires on it with our other vehicle. Then it went to the junkyard. The other car seemed to "like" the better tires, but as a whole, we were never really happy with it. We bought it out of necessity, and it was all that I really qualified for at the time (my credit had some bad scars on it) that we felt like we wouldn't be ashamed to be seen in. It was a "newer" car (2007) but we think it had been in an accident sometime before we got it. It never felt right, or "safe". So, last week, we bit the bullet and got a new 2009 car, and a used 2007 SUV. (The SUV is "mine".) We have enjoyed both of them so far, and we not only feel safe in them, but aren't ashamed to be seen driving them, either. Now comes the tough part. Our 23 year- old daughter asks to borrow a car to drive to the store. We made sure that she was comfortable driving the car, and that she knew where all the switches and buttons were. But, then she wanted to drive "Dad's" car. Being really protective of both my daughter AND my car, I made sure she did okay driving it as well.
Tonight, she asked if she could go to a friend's house. By herself. In my car. All manner of "what-if's" went through my mind, as well as a multitude of excuses/reasons why I shouldn't let her. Then I admitted to myself that not only is she a good driver, she's a good kid, (and she knows that if she goes joyriding tonight, she won't get the car again for a long time), and I also remembered a similar time in my youth involving Dad's car: Dad had bought a brand new Volvo 1800E. This car was, as Dad put it, "a sports car driver's 'sports car'". It was, to many, well. . .ugly. But in a beautiful way. Leather seats, Blaupunkt FM stereo radio, air conditioning, four-speed, fuel injected engine, and plenty of exhilaration for the lucky driver. Dad was visiting for an hour or so, and my friend Randy was over at our house. I asked Dad if I could take Randy home in his car. To my surprise and delight, he consented. We took off in the car and I returned about 20 minutes later (actually, it was more like 45 minutes). Not too much of a problem, except for the fact that Randy only lived a half-block or so away. I could walk to his house in under three minutes. Dad was, understandably, a little perturbed with me upon my return. "I thought you were going to take Randy home and be right back", he said. I apologized, and offered the reasoning, "if you had the rare opportunity to drive a car like that under the same circumstances, you might have done the same thing." Maybe he reflected back upon HIS youth, but he mellowed out a little. It probably wouldn't have been quite as big of a deal, except for the fact he had needed to get on the road to be somewhere soon.
All of this went through my mind this evening when Angie asked to use my car. Maybe that's why I let her.
