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My younger son got his driver's license yesterday.
The result was that there were a hundred places he needed to go -- shopping at WalMart, blowing up the tires, picking up milk for dinner, putting gas in the tank ... all told, I wouldn't be surprised if he put 75 miles on my car.
And each outing was followed by a blow-by-blow description of the experience. Connecticut drivers were the pits ... and he had an example to prove it. The gas pump didn't seem to work, so he went back into the convenience store to get the clerk to reset the mechanism.
He was a peacock and I was enjoying it.
Who doesn't like to be a peacock from time to time?
If he wants to drive me around, that's more than OK with me as well.
Who doesn't want a chauffeur from time to time?
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