You'd think that after 50 years of driving experience my Dad would have it down. Unfortunately, Dad depends on sight and memory rather than experience when driving. This is my father, with his horn-rimmed glasses on, hunched over the steering wheel (to get a closer look) looking for the left turn.

Me: Dad, don't turn here. That's a building!

Dad: They never put up enough signs. (He jams on the brakes, swerves back on into the road and continues at a snail's pace down the left lane).

Me: Dad, get back into the right lane.

Dad: They need more streetlights.

Me: Dad, there's a car coming. (He gets back into the right lane, the left turn signal still blinking).

Me: I think the left turn is up there at that traffic light.

Dad: You can see a traffic light?

My mother, however, puts decades of driving experience into each turn and each brake. She drives automatically, the same way she has all her life. She is so accustomed to driving that she can't break her daily routine. If she adds something extra to her errands, like stopping at the vet to pick up medicine for the dog, she'll go home after the grocery store anyway.

When she gets home, she'll see the dog moaning on the living room floor then realize she forgot to stop at the vet. She should put the moaning dog into the car in the first place, as a reminder.

Imagine a woman five feet two inches tall, driving the biggest car in America. Her Cadillac is not a boat, it's a yacht--and Mom is the captain.

She even has a compass stuck on to the windshield.

My mom is one of those people who has her whole route planned out before she leaves home. "They're doing construction on I-75 so I think we'll avoid that mess and head down Rupert Drive until it gets to that big intersection which we can avoid by cutting down Humpty Lane where it becomes one way then we'll cut across the grocery store parking lot and zip over to the other side of the intersection and we should be able to get through the next traffic light before it turns red."

Then, upon looking at her watch, she reconsiders, "Oh no, it's already 3:00 in the afternoon and there are always so many school buses on Rupert, let's see, well, we can just avoid that whole section of town and take Dixie highway to...."

My mom would make a great Driver's Ed. teacher because she always gives a narration of every move. "Now, I'm not going to try to cross the traffic here but will instead go up to the traffic light and turn there because it's safer."

No doubt mom's are safe drivers. My friend's mom is so safe, she only makes left turns. She'll go all the way around the block just to avoid having to turn right and cross traffic.

My mom loves highway driving. She starts out by giving a full report on the traffic conditions: "The traffic is very heavy for a Wednesday. For lands sakes! Where in the world could these folks (everybody else) be going? Look at all the big fellas (semi-trucks)."

With cursory observations of the traffic conditions stated, she enters the ramp to the highway, headed for unchartered waters. She picks up the pace until she's pushing the speed limit, and soon she's tailgating the semi-trucks. She makes a move, putting herself ahead of the pack, in open seas, running steady just over the speed limit.

"There is a hill in the distance," she advises me. We gain momentum and start climbing--the Cadillac kicks into full gear. We get to the top and can feel strong cross winds, about 20 knots.

"Looks like a rainstorm, the sky is black ahead."

We start down the back of the hill. "Lookout on the starboard side! A truck is going to pass--here he comes."

Vroooooom--our yacht rocks in the heavy gusts.

We near the bottom of the hill, the winds die down, and the rainstorm doesn't look so threatening after all. We are in calm waters again.

Mom is tired, so we change drivers. Now I am at the wheel.

At this point, a universal parent phenomenon takes place. Mom grips the side of the door and keeps a nervous eye on the speedometer because-my God! Her child is driving!

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