When I got the driving license last summer, Mom and I took our first trip around an empty parking lot. Then I found that my mother was not the best 1 for me. It wasn't that she shouted, or told me that I was doing poorly. As you can imagine, my mother's "helpful instructions" only managed to make me more 2 .
Since I could no longer 3 with her, the job was placed in the hands of my father. I loved him, 4 I just did not see Dad as someone I could be comfortable learning from. He almost never talked. We shared a(n) 5 father-daughter relationship. He'd ask how school was, and I'd say it was fine. 6 , that was the most of our conversations.
As we got into the car that first time, I was not 7 about what happened. Dad and I drove around, saying almost 8 , besides a few instructions on how to turn. As my lessons went on, however, things began to change. Dad would 9 the radio so I could enjoy his favorite Stones music. And he actually began talking. I was soon hearing about his first meeting with Mom, "basic body" gym class, and other 10 from his past.
Dad's sudden talk was shocking until I thought about 11 he was telling me so much. In all the years, I always 12 why my father never spoke that much. I never considered it was because I had never spent time 13 . Homework, friends, and even TV had all called me away from him, and I never thought my 14 father had anything to say.
Since I began driving with him, my driving ability has greatly improved. More importantly, the 15 between my father and I has also improved. Just living with him wasn't enough—it took driving with him for me to get to know someone who was a mystery.
