There are many sentinel events in a young persons life. At the Kovaleski Compound today we arrived at one that we knew was coming, and honestly had done our best ostrich imitation by deciding to stick our heads in the water saturated turf at our house. John, the first born, the prince, the apprentice to all that is Kovaleski, first in line of succession, okay, you get my point, arrived at home today with none other than his very own learners permit to drive, unsuspectingly issued by the State of South Dakota (I wonder if there is a hidden psychological aspect to the point that it is not in a very calm blue color like the one you get when you turn 21, but screaming danger red). You would have thought he was Charlie from Willy Wonka and found the golden ticket to the kingdom. At this point I was seriously questioning our (I have to lay some blame with my wife!) decision to skip drivers education, even though we would receive no discount on our insurance, surely the amount of money we would have saved in valium and psychotherapy would have been worth the cost of the course (I hear one of the perks to being a drivers ed instructor is they receive their medication and electric shock therapy free as a bonus for teaching a prebuscent hormone enraged teenager how to drive a two ton killing machine on 41st street). Like a convict who had been incarcerated and now with keys to the world, John was ready to saddle up and explore the neighborhood with the four-dollar-per-gallon horse. As he looked at my wife and I sitting at the kitchen table (which for some reason he decided to clean up tonight after dinner…), my lovely bride pointed out to me as she was racing up the stairs to complete some chore that had conveniently just popped up, that he is actually more responsible than I am (which is actually true by the way), and to have fun. Have fun? That is queen of the household speak for, “tag, your it!” I checked off the appropriate check boxes in my mind: 1) health insurance paid, check 2) life insurance paid up, check 3) long term disability paid just in case I need to be fed through a straw for the rest of my life, check. We then had a major decision to make: Sleek Honda Odyssey or Mighty Toyota Tundra. As football stud pointed out, it just wouldn’t be right to be seen cruising the hood in a minivan, but the Tundra allow him to more appropriately display his new stature in life. Actually I thought this was a huge plus because the Tundra is the only full-sized pickup to earn the IIHS’s Top Safety Pick (which was actually part of the plea used on my wife when I was begging her to let me get one two years ago!), and had excellent scores on frontal, side impact, and rear collisions and could easily roll over any unsuspecting tree-hugger type car like a Prius or several unwary Harley-Davidson riders. We proceeded to the garage where Big Red was stabled (which actually caused me physical pain to say, those of you who know I bleed U of Michigan blue and would crawl across broken glass to avoid anything associated with the U of Nebraska. What exactly is a cornhusker anyway?). John took the appropriate position, adjusted the seat, put the key in the ignition and brought the Tundra to life. As he quivered with excitement, I was actually saddened because not only is this a sentinel event in John’s life, it is just another milepost crossed to the time I don’t have me buddy at home with me as he moves on to college (Michigan!?!). He put the truck in gear. I calmly pointed out the reverse would probably work better than drive for backing the truck out of the garage and that Mom probably wouldn’t appreciate the truck parked in the kitchen. As we backed out, I comforted Prince John that is exactly why the engineer at Toyota designed folding mirrors, to fold in, instead of being ripped off by the wall of the garage as we backed out. My neighbor, who has one son out of high school and the other a senior in high school (going to Nebraska by the way. We still talk.) gave me the two thumbs up sign as to say, “dude, I feel your pain and can I have your riding lawn mower if you don’t happen to survive the quest.” The rest of the trip was for the most part, uneventful. I pointed out that the point of acceleration was not based on the space shuttle take-off theory, that we were not trying to go from zero to Chuck Yeager breaking the sound barrier speed within the space of one city block to try and escape the gravitational pull of the earth, that the point was smooooooth acceleration. I also found out that the inertia reel placed on the passenger side safety harness was working as designed as we approached the first intersection and the Tundra’s speed went from escaping gravitation pull acceleration to zero in the blink of an eye. The people who designed anti-lock breaks: way, way, way underpaid. Overall, the first ride went well. I gave the new driver kudos. I tried to tell him that the mirrors fold both ways, but he decided to leave the truck in the driveway. He then jumped on his bike and rode over to a friends house to jump on his friends new trampoline. I sat there for awhile (no, I didn’t wet my pants. I made sure to go before we left!), realizing that kids grow up way to fast and I won’t have my best big buddy (John: Best Big Buddy, Luke: Best Little Buddy, Abby: The Princess and Best Girl Buddy, Denita: My Best Friend in the whole world buddy) around much longer.