are doomed to repeat it. Sometimes, so are the people who remember it.
I got my start behind the wheel in a parking lot, at one point with a ginormous floaty Lincoln. Never on the street – escalation is bad, mmkay? Then more lots, and then finally on the road with Dad.
So too with my kid. Kid2 just got a learner’s permit. Kid 2 has long ago driven a Continental in an empty parking lot. Today it was more lots and then a couple of cautious forays onto the street.
The big difference? A stick shift that was not a total fail. Also, a cop.
Oh shit. A cop. He was looking at us. We need to switch places.
Dad, I’ve got my permit. We’re legal.
Sorry. Force of habit.