Driving Practice Poem by George Hunter

One day as I was reading a mystery by Alafair Burke,
I dozed off, the phone rang, and I awoke with a jerk.
It was my Grandson, Chris, who gave me a greeting
And asked if tomorrow we might have a meeting.
He asked if I could go with him to practice some driving
My first thought—What are my odds of surviving?
That thought wasn't fair, though my pulse it did quicken
But I didn't want to be labeled as chicken..
So I figured that although I had a slight doubt
I'd better at least give the lad a try-out.
I thought I might as well tempt my fate
And replied, 'OK, see you tomorrow at eight.'

The next day dawned, all bright and early
And I wondered if this plan was somehow squirrely.
The weather was nice and wasn't raining
A perfect day for some driver training.
Got up early and poured me a mug
Drove to Chris' house and we shared a hug.
Both got in the car and started out
Not going on any particular route.
We took some streets, some up, some down
And practically covered the whole damn town.

I'll have to say, he passed my test
And all my fears were laid to rest.
We got back safely, all had gone well
So I said, 'Christopher, you've done real swell.
Your driving so far has not been all bad.
Soon you'll be and ACE, like your old Grandad.