I may be sick. Like, right now.

No, I mean it.

The very thought of driver's ed sends a wave of nausea through my insides. As soon as I have successfully overcome my latest episode and whenever I have shaken my most recent "Oh-my-God-she's-going-to-get-a-Driver's License" feeling of horror, Mrs. P walks into the room and adds gravy to my well-done cut of fear: "You think you're scared just because she's going to be driving ... just wait till we get our first car insurance bill."

Well, thank you so very much for your emotional support, my dear wife.

For those of you who know me all too well, you are likely saying right about now that this worry is like all my others. It is, you will insist, unfounded, without merit, needless.

But I'm afraid I can prove you wrong this time. And I can legitimize my concerns based on two facts: First, our teenager is a horrible driver on Nintendo 64. Secondly -- and I'm embarrassed to admit this -- there was a little incident she was involved in while driving a go-kart at a local Putt-Putt course a couple of weeks ago.

First things first, I ask you: How can a kid control a real life half-ton automobile when she can't even push the right buttons and make a virtual car go straight (and slow) on a television screen? You should see her: She drives into walls and through water. She mows down little cartoon figures and makes a general mockery of driving safety. AND SHE GIGGLES WHILE SHE'S DOING IT!! If we had to pay for insurance for the way she drives Nintendo games, we'd already be in the poor house. (My biggest fear is that my insurance agent has some sort of Big Brother monitor hooked up to our N-64 game and he is keeping track of all the wrecks our daughter has had to this point.)

If that weren't enough, a couple of weeks ago, an attendant at the local go-kart course issued our beloved teenager a warning for bumping into other people on the track. I believe the word "ramming" was used. He said she did it intentionally. Whatever ... If it WAS intentional, that's bad. But if she did it because she just flat couldn't drive a little tiny race car with a lawn-mower engine, we're in some serious trouble here.

And she wonders how come I tell her I would rather have my toenails ripped out one by one than allow her to get a hardship license. And they do have that named appropriately, don't they? Fifteen-year-olds who drive do certainly present a hardship for any poor sap daddy who agrees to that provision. Why put yourself through a WHOLE EXTRA YEAR of that sort of non-stop fun and excitement?

Our teenager has had her eyes on cars since she was 6, when she first spotted a purple Mustang that pulled up next to our beat-up Buick. She told us some day that car would be hers. Here we are, 8 years since, and 18 months away from her legal driving age, and she's no closer to a purple Mustang now than she was then. Life stinks, eh?

Realizing that "fancy," "cool" and "awesome" will never be words her friends will use to describe her transportation, she has headed in another direction. She now says she wants a '60s model pickup truck, which I guess means that instead of pouring one big bundle of money into a car in the beginning, we'll be sucked dry slowly over a several-year period.

We asked her what color she wanted her little truck to be. She said, "Primer."

Where does she learn such language?

Last weekend, we visited Mrs. P's family in Oklahoma. They have some property out in the country, and they spend a lot of their free time riding a four-wheeler around their rather large yard. (If it weren't for their spacious, beautiful new house, this would be Jeff Foxworthy heaven).

We each took turns riding this contraption. My brother-in-law then had the audacity to let our 14-year-old drive as he rode in the seat with her. I'm happy to report that they made it around the yard without a scratch and without having to call 911.

But when they rolled up, joy ride complete, my brother-in-law -- who, incidentally, is in law enforcement -- said, "She's a good driver. She'll be just fine. Don't you worry."

Thanks, Adam 12 ... I'm feelin' sick again.

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