My Turn With the Wheel, Sort Of
You see them around, right? Driving real slow, maybe drifting a bit. Yeah, I’m talking about those older ladies behind the wheel. Used to drive me nuts sometimes, especially when I was in a hurry, which felt like always.
But then, well, life happens. It happened with my own mom. She loved driving. Always did. It was her freedom, you know? Popping to the shops, seeing her friends, doctor’s visits. Didn’t have to rely on anyone. She learned way back when cars were, let’s say, simpler. Stick shift, no power steering. Tough lady.
Thing is, I started noticing little things. Took her a bit longer to react at junctions. Parking got… creative. Couple of near misses that she brushed off, but they stuck with me. We live in a busy town now, not the quiet streets she learned on. Cars everywhere, everyone rushing.
So, I had to step in. Wasn’t easy. How do you tell your own mom, the one who taught you half the things you know, that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to hang up the keys?
The Talk and The Drives
I didn’t just drop it on her. Started slow.
- First, I offered to drive her places more often. “Oh, let me get this one, Mom, save you the hassle.”
- Then, I started going with her when she drove. Sat in the passenger seat. Didn’t say much at first, just watched.
- Saw the hesitation. Saw the quick glance that maybe wasn’t quick enough. Saw the tight grip on the wheel when someone cut her off.
We had a few talks. Gentle ones at first. She got defensive, naturally. “I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive!” Which was true. But that wasn’t the point, was it? It wasn’t about skill back then, it was about safety now.
One afternoon, after a particularly tricky time getting out of a busy supermarket parking lot, I just laid it out. Showed her a couple of small dents she hadn’t really noticed. Talked about reaction times. Talked about how worried I was. That hit home more than anything else.
Giving Up The Keys
It took a while. It wasn’t a single conversation. More like a slow process. She started letting me drive more. Then she started asking me to take her places. The car sat in the driveway mostly.
Finally, one day, she just handed me the keys. “Don’t think I’ll be needing these anymore,” she said. Sounded casual, but I could see it cost her. It was a big piece of her independence gone.
Now, I drive her everywhere she needs to go, or we get a taxi, or my sister helps out. It’s more work for us, sure. But honestly? The peace of mind is worth it. Knowing she’s safe, knowing others are safe around her… well, you can’t put a price on that.
So yeah, sometimes I still get a bit impatient on the road. But when I see an older lady driving carefully, maybe a bit too slowly for my liking? I try to remember my mom. I try to remember it’s not always about being slow, sometimes it’s about being careful, and sometimes it’s about a really tough decision someone might be facing. It gave me a whole different perspective, going through that whole process myself.
