He's driving to the store, on a wing and a prayer Lori Clinch Are We There Yet? Every once in a while someone will ask me if I make stuff up for my weekly column. Rest assured I do not. My family gives me plenty to write about. Take last week for instance, when my Huey approached the car armed with nothing more than a learner's permit and a smile. He opened the door and climbed in with all the confidence that youth allows. He took a moment to gaze at himself in the mirror, turned his head to check his profile and gave himself a wink. He seemed oblivious to his mother sitting in the passenger seat, clutching her purse and shaking in her sandals. He adjusted his mirrors, moved the seat up, and put the keys in the ignition. "What are you doing?" I asked nervously. "Well," he said as if he were talking to a child, "I'm about to drive." "Have you brushed up on your knowledge of road signs? Are your passengers buckled up? Most importantly, do you feel that we, as a family, are ready to face the task at hand?" "Mother, you said you would let me drive to the store. I'll go slow, I promise." I turned to look at my two younger darlings who were sitting in the back seat. Little Charlie was adorned in his faux raccoon hat and a Daniel Boone vest, and Lawrence was wearing his ball cap backward and chewing a whole pack of gum at once. "Why do we have to be here for this?" Lawrence asked around the wad. "Because we're a family, and families stick together in their hours of need." "But I'm a nervous wreck," said Charlie. "Yeah," said Lawrence. "I still haven't recovered from the day that you taught Vernon to drive." "Ah, you guys are just sissies," Huey said as he put the car into drive. "Just pull slowly away from the curb, Huey," I said with calmness that I didn't feel. "That's it. Did you check your blind spot? Do you see the stop sign? Slow down for the stop sign! STOP! OK, now we're stopped. Before you turn into the intersection, be sure to look left, then right, and then look left again." "How do you think that makes right feel?" asked Lawrence, as he smacked his gum in the back seat. While I ignored his question, Huey moved ever so slowly into the intersection. He waited until he was halfway through the turn before he accelerated and gave the car a full dose of gas. I was still clutching my purse and putting my right foot through my imaginary brake when I heard Lawrence continue. "I mean, if you look left twice and right only once, don't you think that's going to make right feel bad? Maybe right wants you to look at it twice, did you ever think of that?" Huey was steering in a manner that had me feeling as if I were on the end of a ski rope. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Well," replied Huey with great confidence, "I believe we've been through this before - I'm driving." "But you're driving like a nut." "I'm driving like a pro. I'm sitting at full attention as I scan the perimeter for any dangers that might obstruct my path before I proceed with caution, and I'm taking the time to mentally determine how to best place myself between two points of reference." He was quoting his driver's manual as if it were his Bible. "Then you do see that parked car up there, and the one who is approaching us like a fanatic?" I asked. "Yep." "I mean, how can you just choose left over right like that?" asked Little Charlie as he joined his brother's line of questioning. "What did right ever do to you? Why does left always get to be the favorite one?" Although we were only going 23 mph, I felt as though we were cruising at warp speed. I closed my eyes to pray for strength, and when I opened them, I saw it: the grocery store. It couldn't have looked more blessed if a bright light had shone from the heavens as a choir of angels sang around it. Huey turned into the lot and pulled into a parking spot going full bore, and at the last possible minute he slammed on the brakes. "How was that?" he asked as he again flashed me his award-winning smile. I had no air in my lungs, therefore, I couldn't speak. Beads of sweat were forming on my brow and my right foot was pressed so hard against the floorboard that it would take a crane to pull it free. It seemed as though we sat there forever as Huey awaited my review. "I'll bet that left gets better gifts at Christmas, too," Lawrence said, as he broke the silence. And they wonder if I make stuff up. Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.