I was running some of the usual Saturday errands today. And, I had my five-year old son in the car with me. At one point, we were pulling out of a parking lot, into traffic, and this exchange went down:
Him: You’re going to have to wait for that car to pass before you can drive on the road.
Me: Yes, I see the car. Don’t worry. I’ve been driving for thirty years now. I know what I’m doing.
Him: Thirty years?
Me: Yes. That’s a long time, do you know how long that is?
Him: It’s probably like a hundred years.
Me: I hope not. I was seventeen when I started driving.
Him: Do you remember when you first started driving?
Me: Yes. I remember it very well. You would have liked my car back then – it looked like a race car.
Him: How did you start driving?
Me: Well, first you have to take a class, and then you have to take two tests, and then when you’re seventeen, you can start driving.
Him: Do you remember the name of the teacher who taught you in that class?
Me: No. Actually, I don’t remember his name.
Him: I thought you said you remembered when you first started driving?
Me: Yes. I remember when I started. But, I don’t remember every detail of it.
Him: Did you have hair when you started driving?
Me: Yes. I did have hair back then.
In any event, here’s a picture of my first car. I bought it in the Fall of 1979. It was a 1976 Chevy Camaro. Man, I waxed that baby so many times that you would slide right off it, if you tried to lean against it. Lots of fun with that one. My, how times have changed…I now drive a 10-year old, Chevy Lumina, with 160,000 miles on it – and it hasn’t been washed since some time in 2007…