Deb finally got her driver's license on Friday. I feel bad that it took this long for her to get her license, as she is really enjoying this expansion of her personal freedoms. While I didn't actively hinder the process, I didn't really help things along either. Owning a fleet of exclusively standard transmission, sometimes balky, always demanding, Italian sports cars certainly didn't help. One problem was that I'm (unapologetically) not the easiest driving instructor. My mother helped me get the most miles under my belt, but it was my father who taught me to drive. He too was not the easiest driving instructor... he wasn't necessarily mean, but he was rather uncompromising. The weird mix of fear, excitement, concentration, and defensiveness that comes along with learning to drive results in an emotional tinderbox. A gruff "feather the fucking clutch" under these circumstances can be taken the wrong way and can lead to some sore feelings. Same thing happened with us. Deb has heard my driving lectures a million times, but she's not too keen on hearing them when she's concentrating on driving. Luckily, a friend of her's stepped in and helped her get the seat time needed to get comfortable in a car, and to pass her test. The other problem is, well now was, that my car collection was exclusively my domain. I have to admit I liked it. I never had to worry about someone else having dibs. I also need to remember to leave the car keys somewhere handy. And I need to re-adjust mirrors and seats, etc, etc. I need to worry more too. It's not that I think Deb will be a bad driver... I just know how long it takes to develop good defensive (in my case offensive) driving skills. And I can imagine how financially unpleasant it could be if my truck plows into a new Mercedes SL500... I'm not predicting Deb will have any such problems, but my overall risk exposure did go up. Maybe I should bump up the limits on my insurance policies. Oh, and I'll probably seem like a knuckle-dragger for admitting this: I like always knowing where my wife is. I rarely worry about myself, but I can get pretty protective of the Mrs. Oh well... I guess the big upside to all this (besides Deb's continued happiness) is that I won't have to go to the god damn grocery store any more. And maybe I can spin her driving into an excuse for yet another car... hrrmm.