On the road of life, our teachers come in many forms. On the literal road, Cherry Creek High School Driver's Education and Dad were my main instructors. As I navigate the completely insane roads of the Los Angeles Basin, their lessons often roll through my mind.

The most important lesson that I learned from CCHSDE was through an informational video that they showed us in a simulator. In the simulation we were driving down a two-lane road crowded with parked cars on the right-hand side. On the other side of the line of parked cars was a sunny park filled with children playing. As we rolled along, the simulation would periodically stop to point things out. There-- a person inside one of the parked cars. The word "HAZARD" would appear in bright orange capital letters, with an arrow pointing to the person. Immediately afterwards the person would open the door of their car directly into traffic, requiring a quick brake. If you could identify the hazard (person in the car) before the action (opening the door), you could avoid hard brakes and close calls. And so it went-- kids playing with balls [HAZARD], pedestrians coming out from between parked cars [HAZARD], cyclists going straight when you're turning right [HAZARD!].
The bright orange capital letters and the HAZARD refrain are forever painted upon the scenery of my driving life.

Dad's lessons were similar, but his style was different. He had an eerie way of forecasting the actions of cars on the road far before they happened.

"Look at this car," he would say. "It's about to do something stupid."

And the car would. Every time.

At first I didn't understand how Dad was able to predict the future, but over time, as Dad patiently pointed out the stupid cars, I gained some level of predictive power myself... a feint in the direction of changing lanes... a turn signal turned on and then off again for a while... a propensity for changing lanes or passing on the right. I got the feel of the road and the people on it. I learned to read their subtle cues. Knowing that someone was about to do something stupid meant that I was prepared for it-- which made their action not so dangerous, at least for me. I learned to read Dad's subtle cues, too: clutching the handle on the top of the passenger side window... pressing an imaginary brake on the passenger side floor... a little uptick of his cheek and an intake of breath as he clenched his teeth in sheer terror. I worked hard to reduce these moments of concern... increasing my following distance, taking my foot off of the accelerator well before a stop... putting my foot on the brake when the brake lights of the cars in front of me were illuminated.

Terminology was important, too. Through the CCHSDE I learned about the meaning of things like "Yield", "Four-Way Stop" and "Flashing Yellow". From Dad I learned that people who drove significantly slower than you were "idiots" while people who drove significantly faster than you were "maniacs".

The people of the CCHSDE were many things-- boring, obsessed with mindless details, bureaucratic. As for Dad, he was brave. He taught all three of us kids how to drive when we were teenagers. He had to drive 50 hours with me, including 10 hours at night. We drove home from soccer practice, we drove on highways, we drove in parking lots. When were missing hours closing in on my 16th birthday, we drove all the way to Montana and back. We hit a goose. We traversed Wyoming. I tried to make an ill-advised left-hand turn, Dad panicked, I backed up into a man's side reflector. Dad took care of the talking while I tried not to laugh at the man's name: John Bobbitt. At the time I did not fully appreciate it, but 15 years of riding in cars with terrible drivers has cast new light on Dad's bravery.

Among the insane drivers of the LA Basin, my education continues. Moving across six lanes of traffic to reach an exit within a quarter of a mile... getting out of the way of people moving across six lanes of traffic to reach an exit within a quarter of a mile... parking on steep hills, downshifting on steep grades, avoiding scraping my car on gas-station entrances. I've come a long way along the road of life, and I can now take a lot of things for granted. Parallel parking: easy. Parallel parking on the left-hand side while driving an English car: no problem. Driving up rock-strewn dirt mountain roads: totally doable.

Taking a teacher like Dad for granted? HAZARD.

Teaching a kid to drive seems like one of the most nerve-wracking parts of parenting. I never wanted to drive with my mom when I was learning because she would freak out and start yelling at me. >.> It sounds like your dad was a really good teacher!

And haha, thanks. I'm trying not to feel overly smug about my grade, but it is super satisfying. XP
» randomjunk on 2015-02-18 03:40:18

Learning to drive was nerve-wracking. I didn't do the hours like I was supposed to. I took driver's ed in high school then moved shortly after graduating. I didn't get my license until 5 months after I turned 21. I didn't fully appreciate driving until a week after I bought my own car.

I love the way you've written this.
» LostSoul13 on 2015-02-18 11:23:39

Reading this later
in the meantime, I'm probably going to Paris for a month this summer. Any tips?
» middaymoon on 2015-02-19 01:29:09

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I SEE U SOON
» undisputed on 2015-02-19 03:44:20

luckily for some reason i dislike driving.
» renaye on 2015-02-22 10:35:24

Wow, those are all great tips! Thanks. I'm actually going on a mission trip thingy with my church; we have a sister church over there in Paris and we want to go help them out. But maybe I'll visit the one you told me about! It seems like a good place for ideas and I like ideas.
» middaymoon on 2015-02-22 10:36:35

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