Elijah and I went into the belly of the DMV beast a few weeks ago to get his learner’s permit. It was almost as fun as that time Diana made us go to Ellis Island in New York. With slightly less standing in line.
We are now responsible for 50 hours of driving together. Or is it 90 hours? Regardless, we are holding steady at .25 hours.
We’re not racking up the hours because our first supervised drive…did not go well.
But let’s rewind. We picked a giant parking lot in Michigan for our inaugural drive. It has everything. Wide open pavement. A little spot to practice parking. Best of all? No one around to ask us what we were doing there.
Luca joined to add a little spice and irritation. I even gave Luca a turn at the wheel. He executed a 360 spin into jumping over 7 school busses flawlessly.
After 20 minutes or so, Eli asked, “What’s next?”
I suggested we drive down one of Michigan’s sleepiest roads. Eli handled himself flawlessly, although I did mention driving 5MPH in a 30MPH zone was technically illegal.
I noticed our sleepy road butted up against a real road with real cars filled with Michigan Militiamen. I suggested we pull into a driveway and turn around. Eli turned into nice little house and backed out.
Thud.
THUD! We hit something. Luca and I handled it like total pros. Meaning we screamed into Eli’s face and I jumped out of the car before he braked.
Pleasedon’tbeadogpleasedon’tbeadog.
Turned out that Eli drilled a mailbox. It sent across the poor owner’s lawn.
Huh. What to do what to do? I will admit a big part of my brain was shouting, “LEAVE. RUN AWAY. GOOOOO.”
Was that the lesson I wanted to teach? If you get into a fender bender with postal gear, run away? Maybe. It technically falls into the “Do as I say, not as I do” category. Which is still a lesson.
Luca, sensing my evil thoughts, tried to stand the mailbox back up in its ruined hole. It fell over comically.
I opted for honesty. Stupid honesty.
Eli was still vibrating in the front seat. I told him I would take the blame and wrote a note to the homeowner. “Hi. My name is Rick Hamann and I ran over your mailbox. Nothing would make me happier than jumping into a prolonged legal battle over your property. I look forward to learning that your mailbox cost $4,000.”
I stuck the note into the homeowner’s door and offered to drive the rest of the way home. Eli was still catatonic, so I just slid him over to the passenger seat.
A few days later I received this text:
“Hello Rick. My name is Darrel. You ran over my mailbox and left a note offering to pay for damages. I’m glad you left a contact number for me, that was very straight of you. And for that, don’t worry about the mailbox. I was going to move it anyway.”
Eli and I learned that honesty is the best policy. We also learned where the good driving schools are in Evanston.
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