One of the first blogs I burdened you all with, many months ago, had to do with our two oldest sons learning to drive. Well, the world, and steering wheel, have both gone around many times and, as of last fall, we have two more drivers in the family. In many ways, it has been very helpful: picking up the little kids, running errands, getting some groceries. So far, we have been very fortunate in the mishap department, too. Only one, very minor, fender scraper, in which, our son was the hittee not the hitter. Now, there was a "mishap" of sorts at the gas station, when one of the boys, trying to do the right thing, decided to put gas in the car. He decided he wanted to put the best fuel in, which, based on the price, was something called "diesel." The poor punk had chosen the only station in our neighborhood that sells the stuff and, then, pulled up to the solitary pump that had it. Fortunately, he came straight home and told me the car was acting funny. I got in and backed it up a bit. It was like having Mel Blanc in the back-seat. ( Mel Blanc was the man who did the voices for most of the Warner Brothers cartoon characters like Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd, Porky Pig, etc. He also was the "voice" of Jack Benny's car, as it coughed and wheezed its way to life. That brings us to Jack Benny. He was an amazingly funny man who got more laughs from a quiet stare at the audience than most comics get from a torrent of jokes. Johnny Carson used the same stare a lot on the Tonight Show. Johnny Carson? No, even youngsters know who he was. Right? Please?) Anyway, the little Ford sputtered and lurched. I think it actually said "Please, turn me off. I don't feel well. It was something I ate." I asked the pumper for the receipt and there it was: "DIESEL." Not good for a non-diesel engine. The car was towed and, 600 dollars later, it worked again. I figure that makes him in to me for about 30 fill-ups at $20 a tank.

Considering all the things that can and do happen when a teenager drives, the diesel dilemma was not too big a deal. In fact, if you think about it, there are lots of things you take for granted when you've driven for a hundred years. Not using diesel is one of them. This same boy didn't know where the defogger was one night and when I got in the car the next morning you could see where he had reached up and rubbed the inside of the windshield with his sleeve. For a moment, when the headlights of oncoming cars hit the smudge, I thought I maybe in possession of one of those items that becomes a sort of shrine. You know, like the grilled cheese sandwich or foggy window-pane that seems to show an image of an important religious figure. In the case of my windshield icon, I'm not sure very many people would have made a pilgrimage to a hazy, sort-of-looks-like portrait of Clara Penner. ( She was the woman who did the "Where's the beef?" commercials.) Later that day, I showed the young driver where the defogger is...where the rear defroster is....where the insurance card and registration are located.

The fact of the matter is our garage is empty a lot, now. My wife has her van and one of the boys has my car...much of the time. For example, this past Sunday, my wife was at a Secret Prayer Sister Revealing Tea at church. I know it sounds like a matter for the Department of Homeland Security but, in reality, it's a group that exchanges names and prayer concerns...anonymously until all is revealed at the January get-together. My wife's Secret Sisters never seem surprised to discover my wife is the subject of their prayers. It may have something to do with her list of concerns being only one phrase "My husband." Anyway, she was gone. Soon, one son took my car to a football game with friends...returning it in time for the other son to take off to "study" with friends. I am astonished by how much of today's studying requires that they visit the video-game aisle of the local Wal-Mart. My son insists the Wal-Mart is actually on the original route of Lewis and Clark and that's why it qualifies as homework. Whatever the reason, the garage was empty again. Now, I had absolutely no place to go. Regardless, I felt kind of agitated that, let's say I actually had a group of friends (or just one) and wanted to play golf or something, I'd be stranded. Okay, it's a long-shot that I'd be able to find anyone to do anything with, but still.

The only time of day I am guaranteed what-used-to-be my car, will actually be there is at 2:30 in the morning, when I go to work. Some of you with teenagers, may be thinking even that time frame could become questionable. When I get in, there are some little things that have to be adjusted like the mirrors and the seat. The tape I was listening to is usually replaced by something else. I have lost more dry-cleaning slips than ever. There have been chunks of a Kit Kat bar left on the passenger seat. But, by and large, it gets back to me in a drivable fashion.

The lamentable plea that serves as the title of this story is not from our sons. It's from me. Yet, on the plus side, apparently my sons' friends who sit in the backseat are doing pretty well financially. I have found enough change on the seat...and even a buck or two on the car floor...to buy a new pair of shoes. Walking shoes. Looks like I'm going to need them.