backseat drivers

The problem with teaching teenagers to drive is that they think they are in charge when they are driving and become instant backseat drivers when they aren’t. After traveling 5,000 miles between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, I speak from hard experience. We went to Indiana over the Thanksgiving weekend to say our good-byes to my husband’s mother who was nearing the end of her fight with cancer. The week before Christmas we attended her funeral. A week later we were in New Orleans to greet our newest grandchild.
No one was invented a vehicle big enough for two parents plus a college senior, a couple of high schoolers, their luggage, their music and opinions on driving. We took turns in the driver’s seat. No matter who sat there at least one back seat driver knew how to improve the driver’s motoring skills.
When my daughter drove, I told her to slow down. She responded that she drove just like I did. (She only said that because one of her friends made that observation last year.)
When my husband drove, my son and daughter told him they did not feel very safe when he veered to the left, drove on the lane of oncoming traffic or on the shoulder.
When I drove, my husband didn’t say a thing, he just leaned over to read the dials in front of me as I drove down the road. I pushed the decelerate button on the cruise control.
When my son drove, he switched on the blinker to stop at the first gas station he saw after the law fuel light came on. My husband told him, “drive on, we ha enough gas to get us across the state line where gas is cheaper.”
The only one who made no comments to the driver was our exchange student. But then, she does not know how to drive, yet.
To make matters worse on one trip from Indiana my husband wanted to bring home part of his inheritance: an antique chest of drawers. The teenagers had a few opinion about what he could do with it.
My husband ignored their comments. He tucked it in the back of the mini-van with the drawers opening out. We unpacked our duffel bags into the drawers and filled odd spaces with books and debris. At the motel that night, while others unlocked trunks and took out suitcases, we popped the gate on our mini-van, opened dresser drawers and retrieved our jammies and clean clothes.
Earlier this fall, I was listening to the radio when my teenager reached to switch to teen music. Did I say, “I am part owner of his vehicle and pay for its insurance so we will listen to what I want?”
No, I did not say that. I said, “The driver gets to choose the station.”
Our teenager made me eat those words and drove all the way home from Indiana, all 900 miles. By the end of the trip whether I wanted to or not, I knew the words and lyrics of the top 10 songs.
That’ll teach me to come up with rules on the spur of the moment or to travel anywhere with backseat driving teenagers.