Eldest foster child is gearing up to get a driving licence…
I sat next to a foster mum at a Blue Sky support session a while back and got an inside track on this one.
A few years ago her foster child hit 17 and immediately applied for a driving licence.
He came home from his first lesson and said the instructor had advised him to ask his parents if he could go out on the road in the family car with one of them to practice.
She had mentioned it to her Social Worker, but at the time no-one could trace any experience of a foster child learning to drive so it was agreed to proceed step by step for the sake of the child's continuing independence. They got him insured, put L plates on their little Peugeot and both mum and dad enjoyed reversing round quiet suburban corners and the rest.
The lad had been with them a long time, had come from a very chaotic home and could never go back. He had been a challenge at first, knew how to throw a tantrum, knew how to throw a lot of things, but never hurt anyone. The foster parents had worked hard on him and he'd worked hard too. He'd learned to 'self-regulate'. To keep his anger inside, to process and digest it. Whatever inner turmoil he had, it no longer showed.
Until…
He came downstairs one bright Saturday morning and asked;
"Is there a quiet open road near here where I can practice driving in top gear? My instructor has let me get up to about 40 mph, and says I'm fine, I just need to get a bit more experience."
Foster dad volunteered.
And came home a wreck..
Here's what happened:
They set off along a country B road that for the first few miles is flat, wide and deserted. It's a route that was built years ago between two towns that once had thriving traffic but a new by-pass made the road almost redundant. Also, it's a tricky drive at the other end because it climbs steeply for about five miles, then descends even more steeply with a dozen nasty hairpin bends.
But dad had decided they wouldn't go that far, they'd turn round at the foot of the climb and return.
All went well on the flat, although the lad seemed a bit pre-occupied with the small tail of cars that built up behind.
He started to comment on them, things like "It's a BMW behind us. I bet he wants to overtake."
That was when he started to speed up.
He didn't want to be overtaken.
So dad said - quietly;
"Maybe you're going a bit too fast"
And the meltdown began. The first meltdown he'd had for years.
The lad replied;
"I'm not going too fast! You drive too slow! I'm going at the right speed!"
Dad saw a layby ahead and said;
"Okay let's pull into the layby and turn around"
The lad fumed;
"I am NOT slowing down with a BMW behind me!!!"
Dad was torn between wanting to avoid confrontation and denting the lad's confidence, but didn't want to risk danger; however before he could come up with anything they had flown past the layby.
It was the last layby before the climb. No turnings off, no stopping. 5 miles of steep climb followed by 5 miles of death-defying descent.
Dad was faced with the ride of his life.
At the wheel he had a furious Oppositionally Defiant 17 year-old foster lad and no dual controls.
Speaking of control, when they broke the experience down with their Social Worker it became clear that the lad had always craved control - as so many children coming into care do - but suddenly achieved total control at the worst possible moment.
He wanted his foster dad to be proud of him so he didn't want the humiliation of being overtaken or being told what to do.
The climb upwards, the dad said, was pretty scary what with the blind hairpin bends, but the road was so steep he couldn't get into 5th gear so they barely got up to 40mph.
Then they reached the top…
Remember; no layby no turnings off. A single lane road zig-zagging through a forest with massive tree trunks right up to the tarmac and bend after bend after bend. A line of cars queing up in his mirror, headed by the dreaded BMW.
The descent was so incredibly steep the needle began pushing 60mph!
Dad said it was the most difficult episode he'd ever faced in fostering. There was NOTHING he could do but hold on, but nevertheless he tried one last time, he said;
"Small point but generally you could begin braking a little earlier ahead of the bends…"
Which was the proverbial red rag.
"I AM BRAKING AT EXACTLY THE RIGHT MOMENT ACCORDING TO THE FRIGGING HIGHWAY CODE!!!"
Maybe he was if he'd been on the flat. But he wasn't. He was driving - nay he was freefalling - down one of those sheer mountain passes they use for car chases in Bond films.
The kind of chase that ends up with the villains going off a cliff...
He was going too fast, braking too late and having to oversteer and over-compensate round the 180 degree bends with trucks and tractors belting up the other way.
Dad's heart was pounding, but the had to keep his nerve, stay calm.
When they got to the flat dad pursuaded the lad to pull over and said;
"Well done. If it's aright with you I'd like to drive us back."
And they swapped.
When they got home the lad was as if nothing had happened.
Dad had to lie down in a darkened room.
So.
Forewarned is forearmed.
So for our kid, neither me nor his foster dad are going to be taking him out to practice, we're going to say that the insurance costs are prohibitive and it would be cheaper to get extra lessons and anyway it's difficult learning to drive in two different cars. All of which is sound thinking, and quite true.
Thanks goodness I bumped into that Carer.
Better than bumping into a tree...
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