Sio got her driver's permit today, so we can now take her out for driving lessons (legally, unlike her first driving experience, when her less than entirely sober father and uncle had her drive them up the Berlin Turnpike. In a 5 speed. When she was a smidge over 15 years old.)
I'm using the royal we in the first sentence. I am well known for being a laid back, easygoing sort of person in real life, but get me in an automobile, and I become a massive control freak. In the passenger seat, I am literally a bitch on wheels.
Loki wants to teach her to drive, but considering his record (he's been to driver retraining *5* times because of his inability to observe posted speed limits and/or red lights and/or stop signs), I'm aiming towards signing her up for driving lessons.
I took private driving lessons when I was in high school just for the insurance discount. My teacher was slimy - he wore polyester shirts buttoned halfway up, and several gold chains around his neck, and he reeked of Aqua Velva. He seemed like the kind of guy who would make a pass, but I wasn't the kind of girl who ever received passes (I was very boyish, and my mohawk was surely off-putting to some).
Anyway, Sio and I spent a healthy chunk of our morning at the DMV, which is always a beautiful place for people watching. We saw a very good looking young man, a guy who looked a lot like Sam Rockwell, and a poor kid with an unbelievably overbearing mother (the officer who was taking her son out for his driving test had to speak harshly to her to get her to realize that she was not going to be allowed to go on the test with her baby).