Back when I first foisted this blog-a-doodle-doo upon you, several of the initial bits had to do with getting our oldest sons behind the wheel and on the road. Before I continue, let me apologize for using the word "foisted." I did Increase Your Word Power in an old Reader's Digest over the weekend. I'm behaving like a neighbor of ours from when I was growing up. He'd expand his vocabulary by a word and, then, naturally, want to demonstrate his prowess with that particular part of the language, so he'd knock on our door, knowing he'd get a tolerant response from my mom. He knew that because just about everyone in the neighborhood called him "Huck" except my mom, who insisted we all address him by his real name, Bob. "Mrs. Nichols, I am feeling inquisitive today. So, since I'm inquisitive, I thought I'd come on over to ask a question, because of this inquisitive feeling. My inquisitive question is...uh...well...oh, yeah...what time do you have? I bought a new watch and am inquisitive about the exact time. I hope you don't mind my being so inquisitive." Now, I also must apologize for foisting that story upon your perhaps-not-so-inquisitive ears.

As I was saying, some of the early stories here were about new drivers living in our house. Well, it has started all over again. Our daughter, Samantha, drove for the first time on Saturday. On the way home from a little shopping trip and obligatory "mother-daughter time," my wife, Jessica, turned into the high school parking lot and turned the wheel over to Samantha. Why? I don't know. With the big boys, I was the first one to let them sit in the driver's seat. My wife hesitated. But, for some reason, Jessica was ready to go with Samantha. My wife has highly tuned intuition about things which has only faltered once. That time it involved saying "I do." Well, they returned home and here is the big news: It appears, to the unending distress of her big brothers, that, when it comes to motoring, Samantha is a natural! Jessica said the girl did an absolutely great job. Of course, this meant I had to see for myself.

We headed for the grade school parking lot, where I had first taken the boys. As we pulled in, you good see the light poles shudder...remembering those earlier efforts. Sure enough, Samantha was as smooth as silk. Braking. Turning. Accelerating. All right in the groove. After a few passes through the lot, I told Samantha to turn toward the exit lane and stop at the stop sign. "Ah...that means we're heading out onto an actual street, you know," she said to me, warily. (Another word from the Reader's Digest.) I just nodded. Now, with the big boys, I had not let them drive on neighborhood streets on their first outing. But, Samantha seemed ready. She had just the right balance of caution and confidence as she cruised up to our drive-way.

I will admit that I had my doubts about Samantha's readiness for driving. I knew she'd be responsible and take it seriously, but I worried that she'd drive as fast as she talks and, with so much going on in her noggin, she'd be a little unfocused from time to time. I was erroneous (Again, Reader's Digest.) in that assumption. And, actually, I should have known better. After all, this is the same child who slept through the night, in her own bed, just about from the moment we brought her home from the hospital...where she had been the easiest, quickest delivery of the four kids. She was potty-trained in no time at all. It appears driving will fall into that same "no-sweat" category.

Of course, there is a part of me that is pretty sure Samantha is far too young to be driving at all. She should still be in the "wanna play dolls with me?" phase! But, the fact is, time is flying. The good news is, it appears, based on the first efforts, Samantha may allow the few dark hairs I have left a little more time. Just a little, though. I have a feeling that when it gets to be Harrison's turn at the wheel, my follicles will fade...at high speed. Harrison is already warily inquisitive about foisting his driving ability upon the world, but his timing is erroneous.