Driving Mrs.Crazy ❀ (teaching teens how to drive)


Raindrops keep falling

hope will keep us from drowning

waiting for the sun


Wendy ❀ 2015


My garden and I have been waiting for the sun.

I keep my camera in my pocket while I do garden chores (aka: labors of love),

so I won’t miss a single opportunity to snap a photo.




Even while I’ve been teaching our two sons to drive,

I can’t help but notice the gardens we pass by.

These pictures I’m sharing with you are from my own cottage garden.


In the previous post I introduced you to my inner Crazy-lady.

I believe all writers have a spunky character living in their mind—

the kind of person who ignores the critical voices and naysayers.

Crazy characters live outside the box.

The trick is to allow them to venture outside your head and onto the paper.

You can always edit them later.




Here’s a sneak peek at what happened the last time I took one of my sons out for a driving lesson:

Sane-self crossed her arms and glared at Crazy-lady. “Get with the program.”

“Huh?” Crazy-lady asked. “Just checking out the gardens.”

“I noticed.” Sane-self nodded. “You’re supposed to be teaching your son to drive.”

 “I am teaching him.”

“Then how come you didn’t remind him to come to a complete stop at the last two stop signs?”

“I didn’t? Wait a minute. You never come to a full stop either .”


“So. You’re a hypocrite.”

Sane-self clenched her teeth. “We just want the young man to pass his driving exam. Alright?”

“Whatever you sa… oh, look, those daffodils are about to bloom.”

“You’re blooming crazy.”




Train a child in the way he should go,

and when he is old he will not turn from it.

Proverbs 22:6


Since my husband and I are teaching both of our sons how to drive,

I can talk about our adventures without you knowing which son did what.

As in, let’s just say, we’ve run at least one red light and hit one structure.

No sirens sounded.

And the structure was on our own property.

And we have not told either son about the driving misdemeanors of the other.

Only you know (they don’t read their mother’s blog—ever).




I don’t like driving.

When I wanted to learn how to drive,

it was out of necessity.

At the age of 18, I’d secured a good paying job that was way out-of-town.

I needed a car.

But who was going to teach me to drive?

My parents were already experiencing turbulence in their life,

and didn’t want to add driving lessons to the list.

So my boyfriend volunteered.

Oh dear.

During our first and only driving lesson together,

I hit the brakes

(It was better than hitting the driving instructor).

Then I turned off the engine.

I was mad at the car (mostly).


And it wasn’t just any car.

 It was my boyfriend’s 1966 Corvette that sported a 427 engine with a racing clutch.

If you so much as thought about lifting your foot off the clutch,

the vette took off like a rocket.

I jumped out, slammed the door, and stormed down the road.

My boyfriend yelled, “Where are you going?”

“Home! I’m not driving that car.”




It was years before I attempted to drive a standard again.

But my boyfriend’s dear mother offered to teach me to drive an automatic,

using her sedate sedan,

and what a gracious teacher she was.

I passed after failing the first test (Did I tell you I hate driving?).

The sweet lady, who taught me to drive,

 even co-signed a car loan when I picked out a

 sensible Toyota Corolla.

I didn’t miss one single payment.

But I loved that little car. ♥




So I know all about the fear factor when it comes to learning how to drive.

And now I’m learning about how scary it is to be a driving teacher.

It would help if I’d remember to keep my eyes on the driver and the road

at all times.

And not on those darling gardens and cozy-looking front porches with wicker and …




“Yoo-hoo?” Sane-self nudged Crazy-lady.

“Ouch.” Crazy-lady rubbed her arm.  “That hurt.”

“Well stop jamming my foot into the floorboard.”

“I can’t help it. His driving scares me–and besides, it’s my foot too.”

“He’s improving. Focus on that–would you.”

“Look out!” Crazy-lady clung to the dash.

“Relax. He just clipped the curb. You need to cut back on caffeine.”

Crazy-lady dug her nails into her palms. “Can I stay home next time?”




In case you’re wondering,

I didn’t marry the boyfriend with the wonderfully patient mother.

I married a patient man who also has a patient mother.

And now I’m trying to be a patient mother without going crazy.


I am crazy-in-love with my family.


Have you got a driving story you’d like to share ? 

I’m all ears.




Please say a prayer for us regarding teaching our sons to drive.

Pray that we’d make good memories.

And that we wouldn’t make too many mistakes (red lights etc).

And feel free to add your own prayer request in the comments.

I’ll pray for you before I post my reply. 


Crazy Love Blessings ~ Wendy ❀

~ ♥ ~

P.S. — Beware of getting rear-ended by other drivers

when you come to a full stop at a stop sign.

Most people don’t expect the person in front

to actually obey the rules.


“Whew!” Sane-lady said. “That was a close call.”

Crazy-lady smirked. “I guess that’s why you don’t usually stop.”