This First Person article is written by James Whittingham, a comic actor, writer and podcaster based in Regina. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.
When my 15-year-old daughter was shown the obligatory video of fatal accidents in her driver education class, she let out an highly-audible gasp and cried, “Oh my god!” through her hands over her mouth.
The boys in the back of the classroom imitated her gasp to mock her. She was embarrassed. I reassured her that people who laugh at accident videos are the type of people who eventually show up in accident videos.
Although I felt bad for her, it was exactly the reaction I wanted her to have.
I am one of these old timers who watches the news. Statistically, I know someone dies on Saskatchewan roads every few days.
As my children began to learn how to drive, I played up the dangers. My spoiled little brats needed to know life is precious and driving was likely the most dangerous thing they’d ever do next to getting a tattoo.
However, I certainly didn’t want to scare my kids into being those people who are afraid to drive. Driving in Saskatchewan is, for better or worse, part of our way of life. Being afraid of driving here would be like a Florida resident being scared to extract an alligator from a toilet.
When James Whittingham’s children began learning to drive, he played up the dangers because he wanted them to know life is precious.
Practice run
My daughter took control of the car for the first time while we were parked on the side of a quiet street.
I started with, “Take your foot off the brake and get a feel for the gas pedal.”
“What gas pedal?” she asked.
“What do you mean, ‘what gas pedal’?” I asked, confused. “It’s the one on the right.”
“It’s an electric car, Dad. There’s no gas pedal,” she replied.
They’re making kids too smart for their own good these days. It took five minutes of negotiation before we settled on the term “accelerator pedal.”
Go-forward-rectangular-floor-lever was a close second.
When we finally got to driving, I outlined the rules.
Dad’s first rule of driving: Don’t get into an accident.
Dad’s second rule of driving: Don’t brake or swerve for squirrels. If they wanted to live, they’d use the crosswalk.
Dad’s third rule of driving: Your driver instructor is always right, no matter what your dad says. It was 1981 when I learned how to drive. Things have probably changed.
It’s not “10 and two” anymore, for example. It’s “nine and three” when it comes to where you place your hands on the wheel. That’s because we now have airbags that could deploy and send your hands into your face.
The Saskatchewan Way
It’s not the first time I’ve taught a kid to drive. My son is 20 and an excellent driver. But a few days before he got his driver’s licence, we got rear-ended by an old pickup truck because my son followed the rules for red lights. He stopped without “running it.” That’s not the Saskatchewan Way.
The other driver implied we should have run the light. I got angry.
By that logic, he probably thought we had a gas pedal.
The Saskatchewan Way allows you to enter an intersection even shortly after it turns red as long as you survive.
At a four-way stop, the vehicle that rolls to an almost-stop the furthest into the intersection gets to proceed first.
And of course, speed limit signs are only a suggestion. No hills, no curves, why bother?
Learner drivers, however, have to follow the rules in order to pass their road tests. This can result in road rage. Saskatchewan Government Insurance’s solution is to offer a learner driver decal for the back of your car. I’d prefer a police escort. People are erratic out there.
After a few missed stop signs, and some life-altering scares, my daughter got the hang of it.
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Family bonding
With all the time spent together, we had the chance to bond. Kids clam up when hormones arrive. Driver training may be my last opportunity to spend one-on-one time with them.
Road test day arrived too soon for me.
I sat anxiously in the waiting room only to find my daughter running into the building to find me two minutes into the test. I had forgotten to give her the key fob. Apparently, it happens all the time.
When I saw her across the parking lot 20 minutes later, she had a big smile on her face and gave me the thumbs up. I never knew what it meant to be weak-kneed until that moment. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve never been more proud of my kids than the moments when they passed their driver’s tests.
My daughter is an excellent and attentive driver. She even follows all of the “official” rules. If someone honks at her, she keeps her middle fingers at “nine and three” where they’re supposed to be.
I miss those lazy days in the car together.
My arteries don’t.
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