Becka got her driver’s license this past Saturday morning.
Just writing those words makes me feel more like a parent than I would have expected.
Sure, I knew that one day I’d be at the Illinois Secretary of State’s office with each of the kids, running through the Rules of the Road Drill. I used to joke that I could send them over to Portillo’s to get me a hot dog if I was in the middle of some consuming home improvement project. (Becka joked back that if I sent her out with $50 for groceries she’d come back two hours later with a Hollister bag and an empty Starbucks cup.) I guess I thought it just wouldn’t come this soon.
So this past Saturday morning at 7:00 am, I found myself shivering in line outside the Niles DMV office with my 16 year old daughter nervously standing next to me, ready for her road test. My steaming travel mug took some of the chill off.
We went through the line, handing over certified copies of birth certificates, Social Security cards, and Becka’s driver’s log, all dutifully filled out. By 7:20 am, she was sitting in the car with Harvey, the road test instructor. I sat down in the waiting area and waited for their return.
(I’ve always wondered why government facilities look so drab. Of course, if they were decorated in any way they’d be lightning rods for criticism of government waste. The only real “human” touch in the place was the picture of Jesse White, welcoming me to his facility. Thanks, Jesse– it’s really great to be here.)
About 10 minutes later, Becka walked back into the facility with a hard-to-contain smile. Harvey called me over and asked for her Social Security card. He pointed his pen at Becka, saying, “Give it to her, and she takes it over there. She’s a good kid. She passed.”
Moments later, my daughter was in possession of something she’ll be expected to carry for the rest of her life– her Driver’s License.
If I were a more sentimental type, I would go on about “leaving the nest” and “they grow up so fast,” with the tune of “Sunrise, Sunset” playing underneath my words. Since I’m not that bad, I’ll just say that I’m really proud of the fact that my daughter reached this milestone and I was glad to be there to see it. And I hope I was able to teach her a few things about driving and responsibility that only a father can– something other than “Slow Down!!!”
That afternoon, my daughter came up to me and asked– for the first time– if she could take the car.
At least she offered to pick up a Starbucks for me.