And my brother got me a poster signed by the whole football team.
My dad gave me some records that my sister told him to buy.
And my mom gave me some of the books she loved when she was a kid.
One of them was The Catcher in the Rye. I started reading my mom’s copy from the place I left off with Bill’s copy.
And it made me not think about my birthday. All I thought was that I am going to take my driver’s test sometime soon enough.
That was a pretty good thing to think about. And then I thought about my driver’s education class this past semester.
Mr. Smith, who is kind of short and smells funny, wouldn’t let any of us turn on the radio as we rode around.
There were also two sophomores, one boy and one girl. They used to secretly touch each other’s legs in the backseat when it was my turn.
Then, there was me. I wish I had a lot of stories about driver’s education class.
Sure, there were these movies about death on the highway. And sure there were police officers coming to talk to us.
And sure it was fun to get my learner’s permit, but Mom and Dad said they didn’t want me driving until I absolutely had to
because insurance is so expensive. And I could never ask Sam to drive her pickup truck.
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