On Saturday my teenage son got his first set of wheels. This is a monuments occasion. This is a symbol of growing up. This is freedom with tires.
He bought it with his own money; some of it was gifted to him and the rest he saved. He even has some left over for repairs and gas. This is the perfect kind of truck for a teen boy. It is old and being held together with duct tape and bailing wire.
It has 200,000 miles on it, so says the odometer, but it has had the engine replaced by our mechanic friend, so who really knows how many miles are actually on it. It has no AC, which in TX is a big problem, but it is not my big problem, it is B’s big problem. He’ll have to save to get it fixed. (Although we are weak and I’m sure we’ll help him.)
It’s really hard to believe he is old enough for this; really, they don’t call them the mean streets for nothing.
In DFW, good old southern manners are a thing of the past; people here will just as soon run you down as let you in their lane. You’ve gotta be ruthless to get anywhere on the freeways down here; and I’m going to let my baby and his little airbagless truck out there…? Yes I guess I am. I don’t really get a choice here, they grow up whether it is allowed or not, naughty things.
I think my prayer life is about to reach a new level; and I’m going to be seeing a lot of this in the future.