After a few weeks of shopping around, Brook found what he thought to be the perfect car for our 16-year-old, Caitlyn. He called me one afternoon and asked me to meet him at a home in Salt Lake. "Wouldn't she just love this?" he asked excitedly. As I looked at the car, I had to agree. Caitlyn would, in fact, love it. What's there not to love about a little red convertible, especially for a high school girl? It was in great condition and priced extremely well, and within an hour we found ourselves the owners of a new little car. Brook drove it home and secretly parked it in the garage while I took Caitlyn to the store. When Caitlyn and I arrived back home, Caitlyn opened the garage, glanced over and said, "That's a cute little car," and walked on by. Back story: Brook is always driving home different cars from work and we're quite used to not recognizing whatever is parked in the driveway. Zach had, in fact, walked past it earlier and thought to himself, Why the heck is Dad driving a dumb chick car around? I hope he doesn't drive me to football in it.
"Do you like it?" Brook asked. "Yah, it's cute," Caitlyn agreed. "Well then, take it for a drive," he said, and handed her the keys. It took her a couple seconds to process what was happening, but it wasn't long before, "Are you KIDDING ME?!!" and , "Shut UP!" were yelled. She fell in love immediately and promptly named her car......you guessed it........ Marjorie Stewart Baxter. Marjorie is a great car but for one humongous flaw. Marjorie is a stick-shift. On more than one occasion, Caitlyn had told me she knew how to drive a stick. Aunt Trisha had supposedly taught her in cousin Breanne's car. I believed her. Well, learning to drive a stick-shift one time is not really knowing how to drive one. It was obvious that she needed some good old-fashioned driving lessons. I took her to the church parking lot and sat with her for a few seconds. The sun was beating down on us and as Caitlyn began asking questions my mind quietly wandered back to my own lessons of driving a stick. My dad had taken me to the dirt canal road close by my house and had sat in the passenger seat as I gunned, lunged, and killed the Chevette a million times (yes, I drove a Chevette, no snickering). It was an exercise of patience for my dad and a completely frustrating experience for me. I don't have fond memories of that experience... quite the opposite to be truthful. It was pure misery. I'm sure you can empathize: INSERT YOUR OWN MEMORY HERE.
Well, sitting there with Caitlyn in her new car, I had a moment of clarity and realized that Brook would be the better parent to teach her. I know myself. I know that I'd say the wrong things or make the wrong face or use the wrong voice. And since her first choice, Grandpa Buhrley, wasn't available, Brook would have to do. So off to the parking lot we went that night. Truly, I felt kind of bad for her. A first car is supposed to be fun. I know that she just wanted to jump in it and drive off into the sunset, her freedom flapping in the wind. Instead, she was panicked to the core and stressed and miserable as Brook worked with her. She's still not comfortable with it, yet. She's even decided that stick-shifts are too hard and that she'll never be able to feel ok about it. I promise her that it will become second nature. She's still skeptical,though. We'll see how long Marjorie lives with us.
