A New Stepmother and a Teenage Driver

"Sign here, mom," the clerk instructed me. Having married for the first time at the age of forty-eight less than eight months earlier, I couldn't say I had much parenting experience, and was certainly not used to being taken for someone's mother. But there I was, signing the paperwork for my stepdaughter's driver's license.

It hadn't been easy. My husband delegated the driving instructing to me, saying "you are more patient." Trying to build a relationship with a girl who was still wary of me, I decided that overlooking minor driving mistakes was more important than pointing them out. As she drove 35 in a 25 mile an hour zone and almost clipped a stop sign, I gritted my teeth and hung on to the door handle. Somehow we mastered stopping at red lights without leaving skid marks, staying in the proper lane, and smooth turns with no catastrophes and moved on to parallel parking.

We drove over to the high school, armed with four empty boxes to use in place of orange cones. I set up the boxes, stacking them two high to mark the space for my stepdaughter to park in.

Standing to the side, I coached her through. "Now cut to the right, that's right, harder, harder..."

A gust of wind blew our boxes across the parking lot and I ran after them, trapping them against a parked car. Scrounging in the back seat of the car, we found a math book and a bottle of Coke to use as weights. Boxes in place, we tried again. "Turn the wheel; come on back, a little farther..."

Mocking us, the wind sent the boxes, book, and bottle flying. After a few more attempts we gave up on the boxes and went in search of something other than actual cars we could use for practice. We made a few attempts using a dumpster and "No parking" sign; a few more against a curb with a tree and yours truly as the end points. I only had to jump out of the way once.

Hearing our story, my husband asked why we went to all that trouble when we have perfectly good trash cans that can be placed in the street in front of the house. "Thank you, sweetheart, what a good idea."As much as I wanted to ask why he hadn't suggested that sooner, I knew it was time for me to keep my mouth shut. While I had limited experience at motherhood, I had been a stepchild myself and understood the awkwardness of listening to Dad and Stepmom fight.

Trash cans in place, we tried again. "A little more, now cut to the left..." Toppled by the wind, a trash can bounced on the asphalt, its lid flopping to the ground. The other one, half full of trash, skittered half a foot down the street. Retrieving a bag of potting soil from the garage, I weighted the empty can and hoped for the best.

"Come on back, slowly..."

"She's doing well, I would pass her," commented a lady walking her poodle.

"Parallel parking, I failed it twice," a runner told us.

"Keep practicing...they'll fail you if you don't get it right," advised a neighbor driving by.

With that encouragement, we drove to the testing center. Waiting with the other anxious teenagers and nervous parents, we noticed that no one had been called for testing for over an hour. All of the state troopers, it seemed, took their lunch at the same time. No one thought to tell us that when we arrived. Finally, my stepdaughter was called and I watched her walk to the car with the state trooper.

Five minutes later, to my alarm, she ran back in. What had she done to fail so quickly? Nothing, it seems, but to have the bad luck to start her test just as the tornado sirens went off.

After another hour, I ran through the pouring rain, drove to a nearby fast food place, and bought some sandwiches. Standing in the hallway outside the motor vehicles office (no food or drink allowed inside), we hungrily started our long overdue lunch.

Two bites later the state trooper interrupted us. "Do you want to try again? We have to go now. They are predicting another tornado warning soon."

Surrendering her chicken sandwich and fries to me, my stepdaughter followed the trooper out the car. This time they drove off the parking lot before returning, chased back by the wail of the tornado sirens.

We had to make two additional trips to the Department of Motor Vehicles before she passed the test, but it was all worth it. My stepdaughter valued her achievement more because she had to work hard and persevere. She also started to learn that a stepmother, instead of being a drag on her life or potential adversary, could be someone she could count on to stick with her, in spite of escaping boxes or uncooperative trash cans, through wind and rain and storms.