I’m getting to be an old lady, so I’m beginning to start sentences with the words, “When I was young….”
So, when I was young, driving was a rite of passage. At about fourteen, kids began to talk about when they would get their license and what they would do. Most of my peers did not expect to get a car from their parents, but they had hopes of driving their parents’ cars or saving up to buy their own. In my household, although the official age for driving was sixteen, my father’s rule was seventeen for the boys. Girls did not drive. I remember the younger of my two brothers getting his license and the excitement. I would only have been four for the oldest, so I don’t remember when he didn’t drive. All my classmates prepared well in advance and took drivers’ education. As I say, it was a milestone.
The next generation down, my nieces and nephews got their licenses with similar excitement and most got their own cars, though not the fanciest going. In the suburbs they really needed cars, while their parents worked, just to get to their own jobs and social events.
Now we have the children of the above nieces and nephews and driving no longer seems to be all that exciting. The oldest, now seventeen and a half, hasn’t logged anywhere near the hours needed to qualify and seems unconcerned. The next one is indeed grimly determined to drive and has all his hours. He has about eight weeks until he’s the correct age and will be able to drive himself to climbing events, which is his passion. His younger brother seems very vague about it—he’s pushing fifteen.
Is driving no longer the beginning of adulthood we so looked forward to? What are other families’ experiences?
So, when I was young, driving was a rite of passage. At about fourteen, kids began to talk about when they would get their license and what they would do. Most of my peers did not expect to get a car from their parents, but they had hopes of driving their parents’ cars or saving up to buy their own. In my household, although the official age for driving was sixteen, my father’s rule was seventeen for the boys. Girls did not drive. I remember the younger of my two brothers getting his license and the excitement. I would only have been four for the oldest, so I don’t remember when he didn’t drive. All my classmates prepared well in advance and took drivers’ education. As I say, it was a milestone.
The next generation down, my nieces and nephews got their licenses with similar excitement and most got their own cars, though not the fanciest going. In the suburbs they really needed cars, while their parents worked, just to get to their own jobs and social events.
Now we have the children of the above nieces and nephews and driving no longer seems to be all that exciting. The oldest, now seventeen and a half, hasn’t logged anywhere near the hours needed to qualify and seems unconcerned. The next one is indeed grimly determined to drive and has all his hours. He has about eight weeks until he’s the correct age and will be able to drive himself to climbing events, which is his passion. His younger brother seems very vague about it—he’s pushing fifteen.
Is driving no longer the beginning of adulthood we so looked forward to? What are other families’ experiences?
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