You haven't lived until you've taught your teenager to drive.  It's like grabbing a pair of jumper cables while sitting in a puddle.   If your kid drives anything like mine, finding a puddle is no problem.  They have a way of materializing.

When our oldest got her learner's permit, the job fell right into my lap.  Or was that my lunch?  The first thing they make you do is sign the parental consent form.  Basically, your signature says you're stupid enough to risk everything you'll ever own on the outside chance that the same kid who can't drive a vacuum cleaner will get through the next two years without rear-ending a trial lawyer.   Fat chance.

Then comes the fateful moment.  You drive around for hours looking for a deserted street that's perfectly straight and at least two hundred feet wide.   I found one, but we had to leave when a plane nearly landed on us.  Instead, we went to a residential area where she could practice dodging bicycles.

The first thing I learned is, never try to drink coffee while your kid's behind the wheel.  All teenagers think the pedals have to be mashed to the floor in order to function.  In teenage code, putting a drink to your lips means, "floor it!"

Also, never teach your kid to drive in an area where they have friends.   Coolness always prevails over trivial things like stop signs, school buses, and pedestrians.  Whenever my daughter spotted someone she knew, she instinctively focused her attention on the rearview mirror to check her hair and makeup.  They all do.

Of course, they don't realize until it's too late that if you drive into a ditch in front of your friends, you end up looking like a certified goober.   Before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, the whole school knows about it.

By now you may think I'm exaggerating just a little.  Well, I'm not being completely honest.  If I told the whole truth, no one would ever ride with her.

The true test of how well you've done is how long it takes your kid to cream something once they begin driving on their own.  My scores came in without delay.  In fact, it took less than a week.  Pulling into a parking space, she hit a parked car.

I do have to give her credit for doing the right thing.  She waited for the car's owner, pointed out the damage, and spelled my name correctly when the officer asked her who was financially responsible.

In the end, I guess I didn't do too badly.  She's gotten through the past two years with no reportable accidents.  I don't think my instruction left any permanent emotional scars, though she does still get that twitch in her left eye every now and then.