Passenger Lessons 101

Her hands grasped the wheel, fighting for control over the fast-moving vehicle. Knuckles whitened in fear as she approached the ramp, signaling acceleration. She looked over in the passenger seat and saw a familiar face, straining to stay calm, as it clutched the door handle and readied the imaginary brake beneath its feet. Seconds felt like hours as they sped up the lane, both stretching to look back and spot the oncoming traffic. Seeing nothing, they finally merged into the right lane, both breathing a sigh of release as the tremors of the afternoon faded into the safety of new driver's best friend: welcome to cruise control.
Honestly? My poor mother had to handle much while teaching my itching feet how to maneuver a peddle and brake. From the moment I tried to drive on the wrong side of the road near our home (obviously getting in touch with my British side), we both knew a long road of memories awaited us before I received my license. From multiple "almost hits" to forgetting my turn signal to attempting to turn left on red, I can't imagine how her brain needed a rest after the conclusion of the matter: me finally passing the test to become a full-fledged driver.
Having driven for three years now, I can honestly say I somewhat have found out her pain of those months. After being behind the wheel so long, always in control of the machine pulling you at unnaturally fast speeds towards your destination, climbing in the passager seat, especially with a new driver, can be one of the most terrifying experiences of your life. Old tricks I used to see my mother use, such as the imaginary brake, and grasping the side of the door, along with quick words of advice destined to annoy said driver seem to come instinctually once one realizes the gravity of placing life into another's hands. Always one to find shortcuts to where I am going, due to a hatred of arriving late, my personal favorite tidbits of advice include things such as "You could cut five minutes off by going this way" or "This road will save you some gas since its flat." These lovely handouts, needless to say, are rarely appreciated for their innate value.
Although preferring to arrive on time, I will say speeding usually doesn't tempt me, but like all drivers, I have my flaws as well. My featured rule to break: stopping at stop-signs. I prefer just slowly rolling up to the stop, searching carefully for other cars, and then going about my merry way, a merry way that once almost cost me four tickets after a cop followed my oblivious trail.
Why all the anecdotes about driving on this Wednesday night you may ask? Some of you may see the parable coming, and so therefore I will deliver as predicted. Many times in my own life I struggle with control. Having learned to carefully control my schedule, sleep time, and classwork, any change in plans is enough to cause severe stress to descend upon my goal-oriented brain. Thus comes the clincher: I have had to give up control. When I have allowed God control of my life and stuck him in the driver's seat instead of passenger number one, I learned--I am learning-- that passenger seats can be incredibly frustrating places for those used to driving alone. They get even more disconcerting to the old control freak when one realized this driver needs no tips on safety, doesn't follow shortcuts you suggest, and prefers to test the limits by exploring new places and routes one has never heard of before, spending more time that one thinks necessary at certain attractions along the way. The worst? He always stops at stop signs in life, sometimes for far longer than the prescribed three seconds I think should be allowed. Sometimes he even ignores the rule that says to let one car out and then go, spending hours just sitting there patiently, waiting for others to go out upon their business, a gentle smile upon his peaceful face.
Am I complaining about this new driver behind my wheel? No, though it may seem like it at times. For out of all drivers, I would trust him more that any other to drive my car, even if sometimes I wish I could slam on his brake. But he urges me on, into the acceleration lane, through the traffic, until I soar on the Autobahn of life, taking a relaxing breath in as he charts the course.