'Confessions of a driving instructor'

That's the title of an amusing (and sometimes hair-raising) article in Popular Mechanics.  Here's an excerpt.

"Did you forget your glasses?" I asked the driver as politely as possible, hoping to hide my frustration under a joke. (The other choice was to throw my helmet, which is frowned upon but not unprecedented.) "I left them at home," she said, her right foot planted firmly on the accelerator, and traffic cones flying everywhere. "I can't see a thing!" I prayed, poorly, and said under my breath the motto of right-seat driving instructors everywhere: "Today's a beautiful day to die."

. . .

It was the 15-year-old's initial driving lesson. As we pulled up to the first stop sign in his neighborhood, he pounded the brake pedal and I lurched forward in my seat. "Let's be a bit gentler on the brake," I said, wondering how close I'd come to a skull fracture.

Despite my coaching, the same thing happened at the next stop. And the one after that. "Does your father allow you to drive much?" I asked. "He's afraid to ride with me," the boy replied, at which point I wanted to say, "You think?!"

For 30 long minutes (of the scheduled 60), I tried to smooth out his binary braking, with little success. We returned early to his house so I could show his father some techniques that might make Dad a more comfortable passenger and let the son get some practice before the next lesson. Sure enough, with Dad behind the wheel we approached the first stop sign... and he pounded on the brakes.

There's more at the link.

The article certainly made me wince as I recalled my Dad's irascibility when he was teaching me to drive . . . I now believe he may have had reason for his mood!  It also confirms my intention never, ever to take up driving instruction as an alternate career!





Peter