Diaries of a teenage chauffeur

I’ve never been a big fan of the car rides to school. When I was younger it was always that 10 minute drive I dreaded because it was consumed by my mom’s constant nagging. I always remember staring aimlessly out the window in silence dreaming about that day when I would be driving.

And then by some miracle of God himself that day finally came. I received that glorious shiny set of keys that would “change my life forever” as I put it. Little did I know that in doing so, I would become my sister’s personal chauffeur for the rest of my high school career. But with visions of how cool I would look compared to all my non-driving friends, I gladly accepted this bargain.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister and enjoy spending time with her, but I am not a morning person to say the least. And when it comes to early morning crabbiness, being nice just doesn’t fall into the equation.

My mornings were no longer full of nagging from my mom, instead I was forced to listen to my sister constantly yammer for 10 minutes. I no longer had a moment of silence to process that it was almost 7:50 and we were going to be late because I was too busy yelling at her for spilling her drink on my seat. And then there were those days when I found myself carpooling several little giggling girls around while my gas seemed to slowly creep to empty, a place it is most commonly located. Sometimes I even felt I should start charging a tab, but what could a 12-year-old possibly have to pay me besides a mouthful of sarcasm and a head full of sass?

But for every bad thing there is also a good thing. Through the two years I have had my car, my sister and I have grow to know each other a lot more thanks to the many rides it has provided me with. I’ll never forget those late night drives to my dad’s house being filled with our laughter and blaring our favorite Taylor Swift songs.

As I make my way closer to heading off for college I have come to take advantage of every second I spend with my sister. Morning rides are no longer a horrid time in my life thanks to my rule of when Kidd Kraddick is on NO TALKING. I have learned to cope with being the chauffeur for my sister, and don’t regret accepting that responsibility two years ago.

But of all the reasons I have come to enjoy this once dreaded task, it has to be that little smile she gives me before she opens the door to depart and she whispers, “I love you.” For that I have been blessed.