He crawls the car out of the garage and backs down the driveway in the same amount of time it takes me to get out of our neighborhood and onto the main streets.
He stops and checks over his shoulder before he backs out into our street.
He looks down at the transmission stick and purposely slides it from reverse through first, second, third and into Drive like some slow-motion space movie launch sequence.
Then he looks up and presses down on the accelerator with his foot, easing the car forward almost painfully.
All of this is deliberate. Practiced, calculated maneuvers that he is committing to memory.
I’ve never taught someone to drive before now.
And I don’t remember when or how I learned everything I did.
It requires an inordinate amount of patience to sit here and watch a young person learn responsibility in real time.
But I’m telling you something you probably already know.