OMG. I have a second car. I am the proud owner scared as shit owner of a second vehicle.
My ex mother-in-law (I still love her) gave me her old car for the girls to drive when they get their licenses at the end of this month. It is fully licensed and insured, but driverless for now.
Each of my little monkeys have asked me to drive it and I've said no. It needs a little work, so I want to get that done before they climb behind the wheel. Actually, it is a big 'ol excuse. I just don't want to admit that I am cutting yet one more apron string.
It will be nice not to have to set my alarm clock to pick them up at the movies at 11:30, or interrupt a date to have to go and get them at the mall. But those trips in the car are so priceless to me.
Riding back and forth with them, I've found out about secret crushes and embarrassing moments. I've found out who the bad teachers are, who the bitches are, who the good boys are, and who the bad boys are.
I've found out bad grades while driving. They know I won't take my hands off the wheel or cuss while driving. I have to sit, restrained in my seat, for another little while, then I'll be calmed down when I get home.
I've dried many a tear in the car. That's why mommies and grandparents keep a box of kleenex in there. I've listened to stories of total betrayal and total grace. I've thrown thousands of stinky pairs of tennis shoes over the back seat and retrieved missing school books from under the seats.
In less than three weeks, my girls will be driving away from me in their new, old car. It makes me happy and sad at the same time.