A Rite of Passage

Local drivers, beware…there’s a new kid on the road…Thing 1 has his driver’s permit!

Yes, Tuesday morning, bright and early – and I do mean early (they open at 7 AM), he and I headed to Harriman to the Tennessee Department of Safety Driver License Service Center. Now, I’m not 15 but if I were, just the name itself would scare the fool out of me. It’s so official. Why not just call it “The very small office in Harriman where you get a driver’s permit?” That’s much less intimidating, a little more welcoming, if you ask me.

We chatted during the drive, laughed about some recent goofy things that had happened in our family, and the trip went by quickly. Only when we pulled into the parking lot of the very small office in Harriman where you get a driver’s permit did the weight of the situation hit me. It wasn’t enough that he towers over me, rarely needs assistance making decisions, and started high school last month. Oh, no, we were about to add a box of Morton iodized salt to that already open, gaping wound called “Thing 1 Is Growing Up.” My child was about to take one more step in a direction I affectionately refer to as “Away From Me.” He was about to take a test and fill out a form to complete the first requirement (his permit) towards earning his official ticket of freedom (his driver’s license).

I thought about turning the car around and driving south really, really fast. But sometimes – no, most times – when you’re a mom, you have to put yourself and your immediate needs second (or third or fourth). So without hesitation, I said, “Let’s go get you permitted!” It felt more like I need to be committed…to Moccasin Bend or Greenleaf.

We were the second customers to arrive that morning and had a short wait during which I was forced to fill out official paperwork, urge him to be a designated organ donor, and watch him sign his full name several times in a bittersweet, loopy signature that didn’t look like a grown man’s handwriting at all. I choked up a couple of times but I’m pretty sure he didn’t have a clue. He had his eye on the prize (oh, yeah, and he was combing his hair a lot in preparation for his photo!)

I supplied his birth certificate, his social security card, my license…we gave them everything but a blood sample. And finally it was time for him to take his test. They directed him to a small room with computers and told him to turn over his cell phone to me. That’s the only time he hesitated. I don’t think he was afraid of the test, rather I think his cell phone is like a respirator for him. I saw a bit of fear in his eyes as he handed me the precious accessory. I winked and said, “Breath deep…it will be waiting for you when you’re done, my son.” He bravely nodded, squared his shoulders and disappeared through the door to his awaiting computer and the test.

I retreated to the waiting room and did random things – cleaned out my purse, memorized all the signs on the walls, read all of his text messages. When he came out, he slid into the seat next to me and said, “Piece of cake.” Apparently he had studied his practice tests and had reviewed a lot of material in driver’s education class at school. A few moments passed and I heard one of the girls behind the counter quietly say, “He passed, do you want me to process the permit?” I realized I had been the one in need of a respirator and I exhaled with relief or trepidation – I’m still not sure which. The state of Tennessee had deemed Thing 1 capable and worthy of owning a driver’s permit. He was officially on his way to freedom! Son, 1 point…mom, zero.

A small fee, another couple of signatures and one photo later, a man behind the counter said, “Congratulations, son. Here’s your permit,” and handed it to him.

I swear he looked like Charlie in the Willie Wonka movie when he got the golden ticket. You couldn’t have wiped the smile from his face with a case of erasers. It was a great moment – pretty sad but really great and I’m glad I’m the one who shared it with him.

We walked to the parking lot and I handed him my car keys. I guess my oldest is a little dense because he walked over to the driver’s side, unlocked my door, and handed the keys back to me. I said, “What are you doing?” He said, “What are YOU doing?” I said, “Waiting for you to drive me somewhere.” He said, “Now? Out of here?” I said, “No time like the present. Show me what you know.”

And so he did. We arrived safe, sound and well under the speed limit (I’m glad he doesn’t have my lead foot – yet). I think he’s the first among his friends to have that precious permit so I feel driven (pardon the pun) to offer my mom gal pals some advice…help them study, keep them calm, and take off the rest of the day after the test for medical reasons because you may have a debilitating case of the blues.