Just Another Car on the Road: Let Go of the Wheel
Okay, family—are you ready for this? My son is 15 years old, and he’s ready to drive.
Oooooooohhhh.
So, my son came to me and said, “Dad, I’m ready to learn to drive.” And, as any good pops should, I said, “Okay—let’s go.”
Now, in my head, I had already determined that this was going to be a long process. He wasn’t just going to learn how to move a vehicle from point A to point B—I was going to make sure he truly understood what it means to drive. That means knowing the rules of the road, recognizing that a vehicle can be a weapon, mastering situational awareness, understanding depth and variance, speed modulation, fixed proximity vs. adjustable proximity, and, of course, handling distractions (phones, radio, food… GIRLS).
But for today? We were just going to an empty parking lot to drive in circles.
We get there, and it’s perfect—exactly what I had envisioned. There are islands, twists and turns, exits and entrances, long open runways, and, most importantly, no other cars. Not a single moving vehicle in sight.
I pull over to the side and tell Ralph, who’s sitting in the front passenger seat, “Switch with me.”
He slides into the driver’s seat. “First things first,” I say. “Adjust your mirrors and seat to where they work for you. Once that’s set, check your surroundings, start the truck, release the parking brake, and let’s move forward.”
I was calm. My voice was tempered. My nerves were daddyfied.
But as soon as the parking brake was released…
“Hey—hey, hey, heeey! Move left, you’re too close to the curb! Wait, wait, wait!”
Breathe. (Talking to myself.)
Isn’t that just like life?
We prepare, plan, and put in the work to make sure we’re ready for whatever comes our way—as long as we’re in control. But when that control is handed over to someone else or something else, suddenly, it’s unnerving. We feel out of our depth. Vulnerable. Exposed.
But here’s the thing: sometimes, all you can do is trust the process. And let go of the wheel.
Well, family, that’s it for today. Driving lessons are over.
This is Ralph, and I’m just another car on the road.