Beep! Beep!

Okay, so my mind is clear and I'm ready to write the Great American Screenplay when my daughter poses a interesting question to me: "Daddy, will you teach me to drive?"  Huh?  (It took smelling salts to revive me).  "How 'bout a Barbie doll instead?-- an ice cream cone!"  She's still in 3rd grade, right?  "Waddya mean you're in high school?!--  Since when?!  Nobody told me!"  (No wonder she hasn't invited me to "Donuts with Daddy" lately) I'll have to check her birth certificate.  Beside, teens aren't allowed  to drive 'til they turn 35... (I'm sure I read that somewhere.)  "Daddy... please!"  Why she doesn't prefer a skateboard, I'll never know...  Or those shoes with wheels on them.  Good thing I came up with an alternative: "Take the subway instead."  (Okay, so we live in Los Angeles.) I prefer to build the subway myself rather than have her drive.  Look, it's not that I don't trust my daughter, but... "I don't trust my daughter."  She's not ready to take on such a responsibility (She once let her goldfish die!).  Think about it, she doesn't even know how to change the timing belt on a car, and she wants to drive?!  Please.  "Not 'til you rebuild an engine, young lady."  Okay, okay, I'll a make a deal with her: I'll teach my only daughter to drive under one condition: "As long as our insurance doesn't go up, I'll let you drive."  That sounds fair, right?  "Daddy!"