A tribute to Miss Daisy on Mother's Day

I'll never forget how that one little phrase, "LOOK OUT!" sent a piercing panic down my spine.

The plastic was still warm on my freshly laminated driver's license, and Mom let me take the wheel of our Blazer for the drive home from the Kootenai County Courthouse. The Idaho Department of Motor Vehicles had given this 15-year-old the rubber stamp to traverse the world. Little did I know the real test was yet to come.

It turns out there was quite a bit about driving that wasn't covered in the six-week training course. I had learned how to merge, how to park. But I hadn't learned to slam the brakes for cars 100 yards ahead of me who have flashed their taillights. No brake pedal existed on the passenger side of our car, but that would never stop Mom from slamming her feet to the floor when she thought it was time to stop accelerating.

After countless scenes of Mom with covered eyes, screams to "SLOW DOWN" and the occasional teeth-clenched gasp, I found out that first drive home would not be the last time in the car with mom after which my knuckles would have to be peeled from the steering wheel.

I soon found out there was a reason Dad did most of the driving in our family.

And now, after 10 years of driving with mom, my panicky response has evolved into a quiet "OK, Mom."

It sounds bad, but over the years my brother and I have lampooned quite a few instances of Mom the passenger seat driver. Closing her eyes every time we crossed the narrow two-lane bridge on the trips north to Sandpoint, making Dad drive on the wrong side of the road to be further from the cliff on Glacier Park's Sun Road, these became the stories we heartily relay at family reunions and weddings.

My brother and I not long ago nicknamed our little car trips with Mom as "Driving Miss Daisy." And we've since realized, if given the chance, we'd rather play the role of chauffeur than risk a traffic jam in an unknown land, especially in a city.

Whether it's turning into the oncoming traffic of a one-way street in Portland, or slamming on the brakes to clarify map directions in Salt Lake City, there are some high-risk and high-fodder traffic situations that need not be repeated.

Notorious for driving 10, and sometimes 20 miles under the speed limit, Mom recently got pulled over, by a patrol car, for speeding. Traveling down a hill on a rural road, she had accelerated just enough to break the speed limit barrier. The officer let her off with a warning, but she would later tell us she was on the verge of tears simply being pulled over. I have to say I was a little surprised as well.

This Sunday, I'll no doubt shake my head when Mom panics over my driving. My brother and I will later wish her a happy Mother's Day, and thank her for putting up with our jokes, and say thanks for her unrelenting love and support all these years.

Despite all the stress you've give me in the car, Mom, I'll try and give you a lift anytime you need one. Anything to keep you from getting behind the wheel. Just kidding.

Happy Mother's Day!

Brad W. Gary is the city and politics reporter for the Columbia Basin Herald.