He says: "I got it."

Psyche says: He's got it.

I say: "Bicyclist!"

He says: "I see him."

Psyche says: He sees him.

I say: "Stop sign ahead. Stop. Sign.­­ STOP SIGN!
"
He says: "I know."

Psyche says: Chill. He knows.

OUTWARDLY, I AM PLACID. Internally, I am Jim Carrey's face in The Mask. My emotions, stretching like taffy, yow and yeesh with every turn of a corner.

I try not to show any of this. Once, I even read the newspaper to indicate utter confidence, hoping that confidence is a good training technique.

It's working. Already, he knows such vital driving skills as keeping his cool when, completely without warning, an Electric Light Orchestra song comes on the radio. Quickly, but without panicking, he reaches over, pushes the radio button, and changes the station.

Impressive, huh? That's my boy!

So far, the things he has learned are pretty­ much irrelevant. Put on the turn signal when approaching a corner, turn on the wipers when it rains, brake. Brake. BRAKE!

But I am going to have to get to the finer points pretty soon, because, as the local Department of Motor Vehicles website notes, "Many driver education programs are barely sufficient to learn basic vehicle control skills; most do not take into account complexities such as driving at night. [The city's program] addresses these complexities."

In a progressive move, our city deals with the "complexities" that driver education programs "are barely sufficient" to address by doing away with driver's ed. That's right, no course is required. The plan is called: "Hey, he's your kid. You get in the car with him."