Driving with Dad

Driving with Dad

Many years ago, when I got my learner’s permit, both my parents would take me out to practice driving. One weekend, as I drove with Dad on some back-country roads, he suddenly said to me, “Pull over.”

I obeyed.

Once I had stopped the car at the side of the road—which was deserted—Dad asked me, “Do you see what you did wrong?”

I was utterly confused. I tried to think of some driving mistake that I’d just made, but I couldn’t.

Then I saw the twinkle in Dad’s eye.

He gestured softly with his hand. On the little hill in front of us, in plain sight, a deer was grazing.

After a few moments, the deer caught sight of us and ran off. Dad smiled at me, I smiled back, and we drove on.