#he obviously can drive because he drives the tow truck with a trailer attached but i don't think he drives very often

[abcd-adventures]

As I've shared before, C, our 19-year-old was burned out on school after a junior and senior year of Covid school. He's been rambling around with his camper trailer and stopping to pick up jobs when he needs money. The husband and I have no problem with this. Neither of us went immediately on to college or got our shit together right away, and we definitely believe that 19 with no attachments is probably the best time for finding yourself or whatever. C has been doing this for about a year and a half now and he's not asked us for anything, but then his truck broke down and he called me because he couldn't afford the tow--not the repairs, just the freakin tow truck...🤦🏼‍♀️. I sent him $500, but from what it sounds like, the repair is definitely going to cost more.

Of course, we could pay for it, and I'm not saying we won't...but dude... you let your savings get so low that you can't even afford a tow truck... when your whole adventure relies on driving...🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️ Obviously, having that conversation with him while he was on the side of the road would not have been productive, and the husband and I need to figure out just exactly what that conversation is going to look like...so that's fun. Ugh, parenting.

It's so hard to figure out the right balance. He's in a rural area. His options for getting to the job he's picked up without a vehicle are pretty slim. And, it's hard to make money when you can't get to work. So, we'll likely pay to fix the vehicle, but I'm leaning toward advocating with the husband for C paying us back for at least 50% of the cost. To me, that says, we're here for you but also you're an adult and that comes with adult responsibility. And, obviously, another conversation needs to be had about money management. Just because we COULD bail him out of numerous additional snafus does not mean we will. He can just bring his butt back home and get a job to pay off whatever he has to in the future if he doesn't learn from his mistakes.

I'm grateful that we're in a position to support our kids, but I also refuse to raise my children to be clueless about reality. We have told C that we'll pay his way through any college or trade school or whatever that he chooses. If he doesn't want to go, that's also fine. BUT, if he doesn't go, then he needs to still support himself independently based on that choice. I don't think that higher education makes anyone better than anyone else, but I do live in the real world and higher education gives you advantages and choices. Figuring out the right way to navigate this territory while being firm but caring and supportive sucks, but it's important to me, so wish us luck.

[writing-good-vibes]

we're on a road to nowhere, would you like to come along

back with a house of wax fic. maybe it's because i can't drive myself but i find the whole debate about vincent driving really interesting. anything in bold is sign language and when bo is speaking, anything in bold is when he signs at the same time. more notes in the tags.

When he was 17, Vincent learnt to drive on the fields behind the Sinclair house, with Bo as his teacher.

Their parents wouldn't let him anywhere near their car, wouldn't let him take drivers ed classes at school, told him it was too dangerous for him to drive when he was half blind. That, of course, was probably true, but it didn't stop Bo driving them far enough from the house that they could practice unseen.

"A man needs to know how to get around on his own," Bo insisted, hopping out of the truck when they were far enough away from the house. He walked around to the passengers side and opened the door, shooing Vince across to the drivers seat.

Tentatively, Vincent moved over, keeping his hands away from anything that seemed important.

Bo jumped back in the truck, with Vincent eyeing him warily.

"Are you sure about this?" Vincent asks. As much as he resented his parents not allowing him to learn like Bo did, there was a deep worry in his chest that perhaps they were right, and they'd be proven right by him totalling Bo's truck in an irrigation ditch.

"You ain't backing out of this one, Vince. You gotta learn, can't have you bein' the only kid at school who can't drive, even the goddamn Johnson boy takes driver ed and he's been in junior year as long as Ah've known him," he says firmly. He doesn't wait for Vincent's response before beginning to explain which peddle was which and pointing out the blinker and gear shift and parking brake.

Vincent tried to take it all in, mentally cataloguing all of this information and silently dreading the moment when Bo would tell him to get going.

After a while of theory, Bo was getting bored, he wanted to get moving, wanted Vincent to learn properly if it was the last thing he did.

"Right, okay," Bo began, "We gon' get going now, now take the -- no look the, the middle..."

A few stalled starts later and the truck was trundling over the uneven scrub, Vincent holding onto the steering wheel with white knuckles and a clenched jaw.

Bo, laughing and whooping in the passenger seat, was far too jovial at Vincent's bambi-on-ice attempt at driving, "You're doin' it! You're - You're doin' a good job, look at ya!"

Slowly, Vincent relaxed, the vice grip on his heart loosening as he drove in wide circles around the field. He was almost - almost - enjoying himself. The control he got from being behind the wheel.

For a while they drove around, they were directionless. Every so often, when Bo sensed Vince start to flounder, his hand reached for the wheel to steady it.

"Ease up on the gas if ya need to," Bo says.

Vincent grunts in response, unable to pry his hands of the wheel to sign even if he wanted too.

Soon the afternoon light was beginning to fade and they had to get a move on, or else they'd be late for dinner and momma wouldn't be happy about that.

"We ought to get on back, we gotta switch," Bo nudges Vincent's elbow, gesturing broadly for him to stop the truck.

The truck stalls again as Vincent botches the brake but ultimately the truck shudders to a stop and Bo tuts, "Hey, you're gonna kill my transmission!" There's no venom in his voice.

They switch seats and Bo drives them back to the house, turning the radio on now that Vincent is safely back in the passenger seat.

When they get home, their momma hollers at them for going out without telling her where they'd gone.

"Just into town momma," Bo mumbles, head down as he washes up for dinner at the kitchen sink.

"I wanted to look for some new paint, momma and Bo drove me," Vincent agrees, leaning over the sink while Bo still had the faucet running to wash his own hands.

Their mother seems satisfied with their answer as she carries the last pan of food to the table. "Bo, go and call your brother for dinner, he needs to wash up before he sets his ass down at this table."

Bo nods, drying his hands and heading to the front porch to yell for Lester, who he could only presume was skulking around in the dirt.