You don't give me money

So you can't rent space in my head

Dianne Schuch - Lindsey

Dianne Schuch - Lindsey
Location
Houston via Kenosha, Wisconsin, Texas, USA
Birthday
June 21
Title
Friend or Foe...your choice
Bio
I am a graduate of the JeJune Institute with a Masters Degree in Pointless Endeavors.

MY RECENT POSTS

Dianne Schuch - Lindsey's Links

Baby Murder Trial
IISTG Back stories
Blog Info
How to find me
How to...
My Fiction
My Links
Essays et.al
Music
Part 2 of the Novel
Part 3 of Novel
Part 4 of Novel
Part 1 of Novel
JUNE 8, 2012 2:58AM

Teenage Drivers..God love them...IISTG p67

Rate: 9 Flag
  This is an absolutely true story                                      Book Index


"Every man is a damn fool for at least five minutes every day; wisdom consists in not exceeding the limit. "                    Elbert Hubbard
(click on video to turn off music)
I don’t know what compels people to make the decisions they do. And I am tired of trying to figure it out myself, so I’ll leave it up to you my beloved readers.

So ... you buy a brand new vehicle. A truck. And big nice new black truck with car payments close to $400 and monthly insurance close to the same. You hand the keys to a 16 year old girl who just got her license.

Yes, you read it, but let me say it again.

You hand the keys to a 16 year old girl who just got her license. .

What do you expect? .

I will grant you that our relationship was new and Mel wanted to be the best thing in my life. The way to do that, in her mind, was to be some sort of sainted Buddhist and give up anything paramount to sense, in order to show that she would do ANYTHING for me. She knew…she HAD to know that this was not going to go well. I mean…the kid wasn’t going to get the keys to my BMW. Well…that’s not exactly the truth. But as of that date, no. No keys to mom’s car. I knew better.

The only reason 16 year olds want cars is to be able to have a loud obnoxious stereo system that they can take anywhere with them and torture the general public. And that means changing the radio station while in traffic. Moving traffic. Flicking thru the songs to find that perfect tune with the loudest bass so EVERYONE can be tortured. No longer would they confine that privilege to the parents, the household. Now it was the world’s problem. And this manipulation of electronics usually occurs when the car is moving. I don’t think it is any small coincidence that more cars got into accidents and cost teenagers lives at two exits north on I-45 of Spring High school. The most overindulged kids in Houston’s bedroom communities are on the North end just past the city limits, north of FM 1960. Having explained that to you, I will resume my thought pattern and memory recollections and tell you that when your child calls and says “I’m sorry", before saying why, you can conclude they crashed your car.

… or killed someone.

No one got killed because luckily, no one was in the driveway at Jennifer Fellwock’s house and the only victim was a mailbox. But she put a good dent in Mel’s less than 24 hour old Ford.

Mel and I, with hearts heavy climbed in the still pristine Bemer and made the 5 minute drive to Jennifer’s house, without saying a word. I was past the point of apologizing for my child’s behavior. I didn’t give her the keys, nor would I. This was Mel’s bailiwick.

The minute we got there, Devon ran into Mel’s arms crying hysterically, apologizing profusely. I enjoyed this scene as I leaned against my car with arms folded in judgment. Isn’t that what that means? Body language. Folded arms…judgment. Anyhow, it was the most comfortable position.

All was forgiven. Mel and Devon went to Home Depot, bought a new mailbox for the Fellwock’s and together rectified the postal situation. As for the truck, for whatever reason, Mel NEVER got it fixed. I don’t know why. But of course I can speculate. As long as that damage remained, I could be reminded daily that Mel was a wonderful caregiver who put aside her own material longings to please a child. Hogwash...but there it is.

The car situation stayed in the forefront of our lives for two more years. Devon had 6 accidents in less than a year. She crashed my grey 535i twice; finally totaling it. (Ok, I gave in. It had to happen and I won’t bother to explain- or apologize - my misplaced confidence). Add to that, she totaled the loaner from my Bemer mechanic and then finally she crashed my white 650i and I was through. Mel bought her a car, a little used deal for around $150. She put a stereo close to a thousand dollars in it.

 YES!!!! She did that!!!! .

Amazingly Devon was through crashing cars, or perhaps, because it was her own, she respected it more, who knows.

We paid everything, including gas and insurance. That was not the child’s idea. She wanted to work. But with her school schedule and extracurricular activities, I was very concerned that if she worked her grades would fall. I wanted her to have the best teenage years a child could have.

Mother’s do that. This is especially true with their teenaged daughters.

I had a shitty teenaged career. My parents were divorcing and using me as a pawn in their game. I was not a very pretty or confident child, so I was bullied quite often. It wasn’t till I was 16 that I started to grow out of the ugly duckling phase. But by then I was in the custody of the social worker, Jeanne Ihlenfeldt, who took sympathy on my plight and wanted to give me a stable home life. Unfortunately she inherited a child who had no idea what to do with her newfound beauty. That coupled with a vulnerable emotional state and carte blanche clothing and makeup allowance, I was a piece of work.

Jeanne was a wonderful person. Unfortunately she took on this responsibility when I was at my worse. Sixteen year olds are not the easiest to supervise much less to take full custody. But she loved me. None the less, I have nothing but sad memories of high school. I am not brilliant, but I am clever and had I the kind of adult mentoring that I made certain my daughter had, I am certain I would be a wealthy person today. Not monetarily, necessarily, but intellectually and emotionally.

Devon was in college level programs. She had debate and she was the historian for her group. I truly believe that the reason she did so well in ALL her subjects was because she did all the research for her fellow academics. This meant researching history, geography, science, biographical and other manuscripts, even the silver screen and finally math. She could quote anyone.

She had TWO dollies that she carried around a half dozen of those huge RubberMade tubs filled with files. When the team arrived on site, they were given a subject, written on a piece of paper that they would be required to debate. Devon would then pull all the files related to that subject and the orator would have 30 minutes to study this data and prepare. So in addition to her research, she had to have above average script. She never used the internet as it wasn’t available in our house, and it wasn’t as popular an avenue then. Even today, with the net, this would be a lofty assignment. Imagine using the encyclopedia (which we had purchased the full large leather bound Britannica’s with the books of the year and medical additions), the library and having to transfer everything by hand or at best, word processor.

A funny story: When they arrived on site for a tournament, they were to be given slips of paper with the subject matter they were going to address or argue. But they arrived late and so Devon told them their topic. One of the young men was given Euthanasia.

…sound it out….

Youth.

In.

ASIA….

Yes, even the most intelligent can be stupid.

As Devon was making her rounds to the classrooms where adult judges were listening to arguments, she happened upon this young man in the throes of arguing for the young adults in the Orient, she slumped, aghast, in a desk as she watched this diatribe unfold. But that was her job and I think her only fupau.

We come full circle to whereof I speak. She was far too busy to work. She also went to Debate camp at University of Texas in Austin for two weeks, sometimes up to five. One year she debated at Harvard.

She was sculpting her future and I felt certain I made the right decision. And remember, we were still recouping from her trip to Hawaii which cost her points on her GPA, her mantra since kindergarten. The minute these kids learn what those three letters mean, they live for it.

And Devon may just as well had those letters engraved on her brow.

Thank God we don’t live in New York. At least I didn’t have to deal with the preschool situation.  I can only speculate what I would have done to get her into the 92nd Street Y . (An organization that has more pull in the lives of young parents than the most influential leader of the strongest country on earth!) .

So, having explained all this, I will tell you one of the very worst things I have EVER done as a mother.

No, I didn't have her radio pulled.

More....


Music: Queen Radio Gaga
Blog Directory (also see the links section to the left.)
Page 1 Why did you try to kill yourself

By the way IISTG means If It Seems Too Good to be True
Yes, this is absolutely positively true. If you lived this wouldn't you write about it? Some of the names of characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an account of actual events. Some of the events have been compiled together for the flow of the story. Even when I read my own work, I wonder how it could be so. But if you study your own life and compartmentalize it into less than 200 pages, you would be surprised how interesting it really is!

 

TRUTH HAS WITNESSES (Dianne Lindsey) ©
This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion without the express permission of the Author. All rights reserved ©

Our Salon commercial



Your tags:

TIP:

Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Recipient's email address:
Personal message (optional):

Your email address:

Comments

Type your comment below:
I'm afraid my first comment didn't 'stick'.

My son rebuilt an 11 yr old M3 when he was 16. If he was like other teens, that represented freedom to him and a step toward independence.

So pleased you're pieces are here again.

rated.
My first comment too Jon. But, as I said, my daughter is now 3o and my son 27 and I really heard some 'Bangs" during their school years.
Both our boys quickly crashed their cars, or had them crashed into, within months of getting their licenses. Their cars, fortunately, not ours. Our daughter's been driving about a year now and hasn't had so much as a scratch or knick put on hers. I maybe should stop holding my breath...

This reads well, Dianne. Pulled me along and made me want to know what comes next. I see I have missed some chapters, altho I remember when you started posting this. Glad you're keeping on. Pushing thru the first draft of a novel is no mean feat.
My kids got to drive an older heavy station wagon...or nothing.
They hated it ...particularly as transportation for the prom. But I felt their lives were worth it. I never apologized for that. When they were old enough to buy their own transportation, they treated it with more respect. I am old fashioned about stuff like that.
Teenagers are like that unfortunately, so few of them pay attention to the road and what is going on around them, and crashes are the all too frequent result.

We must be getting old, because more often than not, we tend to have no radio/CD playing when we are in the car, and the same at home, we love the silence, broken only (in ideal circumstances) by the sound of birds singing.
One of the scariest moments in a parent's life: the day a child starts to drive. Thanks for the memories! r
It' frightening, when you think of your children as almost grown but not quite, and so furnished with choices they might not quite be prepared for. Sometimes we fail ourselves, and this can linger in memory like a blot on the personal register of our life. It's a tough call for parents to make. I agree with Ande's way of handling the situation, for it offers a measure of physical safety, and may take away certain temptations to speed. Station wagons are gas guzzlers.. They also tend to be built like Sherman tanks.
Thought-provoking post.
R
what????

Nothing about euthenasia?
I cringed through much of this, it's so scary that those who believe themselves immortal and have their minds always elsewhere start driving in that state.

I got lucky and was married to a body man so my kids got solid dinosaurs with great paint jobs and sun roofs. Also lucky in that we couldn't afford to fix anything, they knew if they wrecked them there was no money to fix them so no do-overs. Drive my car and possibly wreck it? No way, it was hard enough just letting them drive.

It's a shame kids have to be teens before they become adults but there's no way around it. She sounds like a good kid, horribly normal too.
Youth in Asia. Ha! Reminds me of the time I helped the wouldbe salutatorian by giving him the answer to a quiz on Heart of Darkness.
Q: What's the famous exclamation in the final chapter?
His answer: The whore! The whore!
Please do not remind me. I am so glad those days are gone. Excellent piece, Dianne. R
Ok Jewel...don't make me look it up (yes...I am a lazy bitch with the net virtually at my fingertips)....what was the inal exclamation.
Ok Jewel...don't make me look it up (yes...I am a lazy bitch with the net virtually at my fingertips)....what was the final exclamation?
Sorries, I doth assume too much.

The horror! The horror!
teenagers are really thrilled to learn driving 'cause they think that it's fun and adventurous but they should also be aware of the consequences of this activity. thus, people must be more focused on their children and do just like what i did. i have researched for the list of car shops near me and have been taking our car their regularly so that at least, i would avoid accidents because of car's malfunctioning when my kids are driving.
I have changed all the posts to the REAL names of the people, i.e. Willie is now Mel.