Lane and his Dad took us on a golf cart ride last weekend. Along the route, Zach put Bubby Bear on the wheel so the little fellow could show off his talents. From Lane’s obvious comfort with the posture of hanging on to the wheel, I could tell that this afternoon was not his first time in the driver’s seat. Of course he wasn’t driving; he was just cute! But he was so delighted with his perception of himself and this glorious moment atop the wheel of a moving vehicle.
I don’t have a picture of his big sis behind the wheel yet, but that budding 15 year old picked up her learner’s permit on her birthday last month, and she’s driving for real (at least under the supervision of her adult mentors). It seems like just a few years ago she was a toddler pedaling tricycle toys up and down the driveway, chanting silly lyrics as she furiously pumped the pedals to go faster and faster. I’m sure we’ll soon give her the Highlander key and allow her to show off her learning by driving us in to town. (Perhaps practice for a future time when she will chauffeur us of a necessity due to our declining capacities? Yikes!)
Anyway, the kids’ love for driving brings back memories of my own childhood, of course. How my playmates and I loved to climb into the driver’s seat of Daddy’s 1957 Ford station wagon, kneeling on the seat before the wheel whose top we could barely reach! We would twist and yank energetically on that steering wheel (the car was parked, not running, of course) in the childlike conviction that the harder we twisted and yanked, the faster the car would go.
As I consider this topic from my childhood daze to now my grandkids’, I realize there’s always been some human impulse that longs to manipulate a steering wheel. We seem consumed by longing to control our destiny, to chart our course, to move from here to there at ever faster paces. It’s the human drive to drive!
Inventio! 