I remember the day we bought her first car. It was promoted as being the best-selling vehicle in the U.S. that year and came complete with a flashy red body and a yellow roof. We brought it home and it sat on the driveway pristinely clean, with that new car smell and all. It was a cute little coupe, with room for just two - passenger and driver. In a word, cozy.
There wasn't any horsepower to speak of. More like foot power, Flintstone-style. She could barely see over the steering wheel and her feet could just reach the ground to push the little plastic car along the driveway.
The car was for our daughter. She was 2 years old. It was a toy, but it gave her an independence not yet experienced. She loved opening and shutting the door and it was amazing how quickly she mastered the steering wheel. She pushed her feet against the cement, "driving" away from us, laughing with a new sense of freedom.
Her second car was a little red convertible. We bought it when she wasn't yet old enough for kindergarten. She saved most of the money for it herself - from birthdays and other gifts. Pretty good for a preschooler. This second gem had an operational foot pedal and was battery-powered - a pretty gutsy parental move on our part.
She learned to press the pedal to make the car go. It even had a reverse option and it was amazing how quickly she became proficient at backing up and maneuvering in tight spaces. As her parents, we were impressed (of course we were). She delighted in giving her little brother rides up and down the driveway, enjoying an independence not yet experienced.
Her third car was cute as a bug and her favorite color - yellow. It required a valid driver's license, registration and gasoline. Footpower was no longer enough. She was 16, or in the words of her little brother, "almost a grown-up." She continued to delight in giving her brothers rides - to exotic and exciting places that reached far beyond the driveway and most often served ice cream or French fries. It was an independence not previously experienced.
Her fourth car was purchased by her own volition and the cute yellow bug was passed down to a younger (and much taller, long-legged) brother. (We're still not sure how he fits.) With her purchase, she learned about tax and license fees, along with loan rates, monthly payments, insurance, deductibles, comprehensive and collision - all responsibilities she hadn't experienced before. She caught on to the new vocabulary words and terminology almost as quickly as she learned to maneuver in reverse when she was in kindergarten.
She still gives her brothers rides sometimes, but for the most part they drive themselves where they need to go. Like her, they are "almost grown-ups."
Since she was 2, she's been driving. And in a sense, driving away. It's how things are meant to be. That's the master plan, anyway; to have them become "almost grown-ups," or at least grown up enough to leave and pay their own car insurance and find the independence they've been moving toward since they first crawled, or walked or peddled away on their own.
As she backs down the driveway and heads out on the big highway called life, we know, although bittersweet, things are as they should be.
And when she comes back to visit, which we are counting on, it will not be bitter at all - only sweet. So. Very. Sweet.
Kind of like riding in a brand new convertible for the very first time.
- Jill Pertler's column appears Thursdays in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
There wasn't any horsepower to speak of. More like foot power, Flintstone-style. She could barely see over the steering wheel and her feet could just reach the ground to push the little plastic car along the driveway.
The car was for our daughter. She was 2 years old. It was a toy, but it gave her an independence not yet experienced. She loved opening and shutting the door and it was amazing how quickly she mastered the steering wheel. She pushed her feet against the cement, "driving" away from us, laughing with a new sense of freedom.
Her second car was a little red convertible. We bought it when she wasn't yet old enough for kindergarten. She saved most of the money for it herself - from birthdays and other gifts. Pretty good for a preschooler. This second gem had an operational foot pedal and was battery-powered - a pretty gutsy parental move on our part.
She learned to press the pedal to make the car go. It even had a reverse option and it was amazing how quickly she became proficient at backing up and maneuvering in tight spaces. As her parents, we were impressed (of course we were). She delighted in giving her little brother rides up and down the driveway, enjoying an independence not yet experienced.
Her third car was cute as a bug and her favorite color - yellow. It required a valid driver's license, registration and gasoline. Footpower was no longer enough. She was 16, or in the words of her little brother, "almost a grown-up." She continued to delight in giving her brothers rides - to exotic and exciting places that reached far beyond the driveway and most often served ice cream or French fries. It was an independence not previously experienced.
Her fourth car was purchased by her own volition and the cute yellow bug was passed down to a younger (and much taller, long-legged) brother. (We're still not sure how he fits.) With her purchase, she learned about tax and license fees, along with loan rates, monthly payments, insurance, deductibles, comprehensive and collision - all responsibilities she hadn't experienced before. She caught on to the new vocabulary words and terminology almost as quickly as she learned to maneuver in reverse when she was in kindergarten.
She still gives her brothers rides sometimes, but for the most part they drive themselves where they need to go. Like her, they are "almost grown-ups."
Since she was 2, she's been driving. And in a sense, driving away. It's how things are meant to be. That's the master plan, anyway; to have them become "almost grown-ups," or at least grown up enough to leave and pay their own car insurance and find the independence they've been moving toward since they first crawled, or walked or peddled away on their own.
As she backs down the driveway and heads out on the big highway called life, we know, although bittersweet, things are as they should be.
And when she comes back to visit, which we are counting on, it will not be bitter at all - only sweet. So. Very. Sweet.
Kind of like riding in a brand new convertible for the very first time.
- Jill Pertler's column appears Thursdays in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
