Terror

As I was driving home from work today, it occurred to me that teaching Driver's Ed might just be the worst job on the planet.

Actually, I had this thought as a yellow car with a driving school billboard on the top began to pull out in front of me on a county road. I was driving, shall we say, above the speed for which the road was designed. Additionally, it was raining gently onto the blacktop, effectively quadrupling my stopping distance.

As I slammed on my brakes, I saw two things. First, I saw a clueless, high-school aged male with the glimmer of my Hyundai headlights in his eyes. And I saw, presumably, the clueless one's instructor slumped down in the seat next to him as if acting in a Zapruder sequel. The man had obviously assumed the "go limp" position which would insure the least bodily damage after befriending the hood of my car.

I can only imagine the feeling of shock, terror, and complete lack of control felt by the instructor. I can't fathom how someone could put themselves through this feeling on a daily basis. Perhaps Driver's Ed teachers are recruited at bungee jumping locations or other "extreme" sports venues. Perhaps these individuals actually ENJOY the adrenaline rush of nearly being killed on an hourly basis. Not me, man. I couldn't own enough pairs of underwear to do that job.

After I avoided the accident (thanks to my own good Driver's Ed instruction -- the subject of another blog post in the future), I considered how terrifying teaching me to drive had to be for my dad. I can't imagine trying to teach Grant to drive. When we put him in one of those battery operated Jeep's, he simply pushes the pedal to the floor and lets his arms hang loose. No steering. I'm in deep, deep trouble.