I will always remember the anniversary of the day I got my driver's license. It is the day after my youngest brother's birthday.
|The 1976 Grand LeMans Safari Wagon|
She served me long and well.
|The Mighty Duster|
Save for the sporty pinstriping on the side,
this is what she looked like.
Aunt Sharon took me to Friendly's to celebrate. I was so happy.
But nothing in the world was more sweet than being able to take my brother over to the hospital (all by myself) to see our new baby brother (at that time, children under 14 were absolutely not allowed in the hospital to visit, so my other brother and sister had to stay home). Weighing in at 12 lbs. 3 ozs. and 26.5" long, he was twice the size of some of the babies in the nursery and he was beautiful. And, I must say, after seeing him just last night...he still is!
But when I told my kids that tomorrow was the 22nd anniversary of getting my driver's license, they were, like, "So?"...I guess they just don't get the excitement of being behind the wheel and being in control of what you are doing and where you are going. In time, they will come to understand. It's like being the president of your own little country. You're in control of communications and media ("I pick the radio station"), you are in charge of laws ("Don't eat in my car and don't kick the seat.") and you are in charge of justice ("Do that again and you are walking home, kid."). Heck, when you drive a 1976 Pontiac Grand LeMans Safari Wagon and it really is your own little country.
I wonder if I get a UN delegate with that car?