A penchant for precision
She came around the track. Wide in the turns. Hair flying. Not giving anyone a chance to overtake her. She didn’t think she could do it.
Yet, there she was in the lead.
I had fallen back. The last go- cart, hugging the turns ... pretending the tarmac was ice. Don’t want to lose control. I knew I could go faster … but I don’t have the same need for speed.
When she laughs at me later -- AND SHE WILL LAUGH -- I will tell her I choose to drive with precision.
“PRECISION! That just means you are slow.”
She will be slow, too. I tell her. “It’s in your DNA.”
My daughter is three years away from driving.
Only three years until she will be legally eligible ( provided she pass a series of drivers’ ed. classes and ability tests) to navigate a moving vehicle through traffic.
The shock of that statement will never abate.
Three years is no time. The blink of an eye.
Three years ago she was still wearing mismatched socks and playing with dolls that barely fit into a pink plastic convertible she liked to push around a three- foottall balsa wood model of the Eiffel Tower. She’d shush her brother, who was providing unwanted VroomVroom noises so that she could make her own sound effects.
Her car needed to purr. “Someday I will drive through France on the Autobahn.”
I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I said under mine. I wish I could stay quite.
She doesn’t need me to be a naysayer.
There will be many of those in her lifetime.
Three measly years until some feckless soul makes a tasteless joke about the inherent ( and totally imagined) shortcomings of Double X Drivers.
But “driving like a girl,” at least according to insurance company statistics, might be a good thing.
We fems, according to such actuarial tables, have fewer incidences of aggressive and rage- fueled driving and tend to be more likely to follow the road rules and speed limits than our Ychrome compatriots.
I was reminded of this as I read the recent news that Saudi women will soon be allowed to apply for driving licenses.
How thrilled I was for them and their new freedom. I could see the road open up. I could feel the wind on their faces and the first tinge of worry that whispers doubts in your ear: “Maybe I’m not ready.” It’s fleeting.
Soon it will be second nature.
Although, it remains to be seen how Saudi guardianship laws will work around license applications ... Will women have to get permission from their fathers, husbands or sons? Will they be allowed to drive professionally? ... It’s probably best not to look a gift car in the grill.
The ability to drive opens other avenues. Independence. Employment. Self- sufficiency.
Not to mention discovering the joy and profundity of NPR’s vintage Car Talk.
My daughter can’t see it yet.
But she can see over the dashboard. Finally. She’s even graduated to sitting in the front- seat passengerside.
In three years ( or so) we’ll switch seats.
I will be sure to remind her of her family’s penchant for precision.