June 9, 2007
The last time I took my car in for service the technician said I would soon need new tires. I’ve got another six months or so before the rubber will be bald, he said.
I just may wait until the tires look like my forehead before buying those tires. That’s because I have a 15-year-old who just got his learner’s permit and is now taking summer school driver’s ed.
Eric needs practice, lots and lots of practice. So Julie and I take him out for drives. He likes Julie in the front seat better than me. She doesn’t yell as loudly as I do. When I’m riding shotgun, I nervously grip the armrest, leaving marks and sweat spots on the leather. He notices.
Eric cringes every time I suck in air to try to make the car that much smaller so we don’t hit an object or a pothole. Too often, when he is looking over his left shoulder to see if he can make a lane change, the car drifts to the right, narrowly missing the curb, though sometimes the wheel does scrape the concrete.
I shout. He grits his teeth and sighs. I curse. He turns up the car radio. When we get home, I head one way, he the other. We don’t talk for an hour. I later find the car keys on the kitchen counter.
The prospects of driving present a tremendous responsibility for a teen, who like most kids his age would skip a meal rather than pop a frozen pizza in the oven.
But maybe we should all be alarmed. I found a National Institute of Health study that was reported in USA Today that said the “the executive branch” of the teen brain — the part that weighs risks, makes judgments and controls impulsive behavior — is not fully developed at 16 and doesn’t fully mature until age 25.
The insurance industry is light years ahead of science because for decades drivers’ insurance rates have plummeted at age 25. The newspaper also reported one in five 16-year-olds crash their car within the first year.
Count me in as one of those one of those five.
At 16, I rushed to get my license days before the Homecoming dance my junior year of high school. The evening of the dance, after a nice dinner of chicken cordon bleu and Cokes with tiny umbrellas, I promptly drove my dad’s pea soup green 1972 Chevy Nova up a curb and over a hedge.
Luckily, the only casualty was a muffler.
But back to the teen brain: The institute suggests the part of the teen’s brain that considers consequences remains undeveloped. Most parents would agree with that statement.
That means careless attitudes and rash emotions often drive decision-making.
According to the institute, as a young teen's body matures, the hormones encourage more risk-taking, thrill-seeking and curb hopping. As the hormones heat up, the part of the brain that responds to pleasure reaches overdrive.
Those emotions make it hard to make wise judgments. Boy, do they ever.
I can only imagine the kind of thoughts that were going through my dad’s brain when he was sitting in the muffler shop waiting room.
They’re likely the same thoughts that will go through my brain when I finally buy those tires.
Comments
Margo (anonymous) says...
Oh, pity the poor parent of a driver-in-training. My father and I didn't speak for a full year after he taught me to drive. Maybe it was that huge piece of the garage I took off when backing out the first time.........
June 12, 2007 at 8:37 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
patmcq (anonymous) says...
My father's version of driver's ed was to install little foot-high picket fences along the single lane driveway--with steel spikes. If I hit one with the 1957 beige and cocoa Fairlane 500 with the world's biggest steering wheel I would wipe out a tire. High motivation....
....And high humor when Dad backed out too rapidly with his truck. Crumble and hissssssssssss---
June 13, 2007 at 8:30 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
viola (anonymous) says...
My father, bless him, volunteered to go to VietNam rather than teach me to drive. By the time he returned, thank God, Mommy had me driving a stick shift.
Come to think of it... he didn't teach any of his five children to drive.
July 5, 2007 at 12:08 a.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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