Everybody makes their bones on their own

So, I took my niece for another driving lesson. She’s developed a tendency to ride the curb. Rookie mistake. All part of that learning where the edges of the car are, and how much space there is after the edge. We all went through it. Of course, that means when I’m in the passenger seat, I get a bird’s eye view of just how close she is to the curb.

And there lies the conflict. The protective instinct tells me I should keep warning her, “You’re close to the curb . . . you’re really close to the curb . . . you know that thing over there? It’s the curb.” Because there are few sensations as enervating as scraping the curb. That noise just gives your ears road rash. And the reverb through the car. Ugh. I get a little nauseated just thinking of it. And of course, I want to save her that sickmaking feeling.

The other side of me says, “Let her hit it.” Chances are that it won’t do any serious damage to my car. Barney the Wonder Truck has been through worse. A lot worse. And once she’s kissed the curb, she’ll never want to do it again. Nothing like a hard lesson to bring that one on home. Of course, it’s kind of a dick move, to just let her take her lumps that way. It’ll scare the crap out of her.

I finally decided to keep my mouth shut, and let the chips fall. I’ll tell her once at the beginning of a drive. But after that, she’s just going to have to learn the hard way.