Column: Teaching daughter to drive is a lesson in letting go

Myron Medcalf, The Minnesota Star Tribune on Mar 27, 2026

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MINNEAPOLIS — When she drove off in her car for the first time last month, my daughter had a smile as wide as I’d ever seen.

That first drive is freedom. It’s bliss. It’s exciting.

While she beamed, however, I froze. The next hour or so seemed surreal.

It had been almost 25 years since I’d had that same feeling — albeit after a few early missteps. On the day of my driver’s test in the fall of 2000, I told a girl I liked to be ready at 7 p.m. so I could pick her up for a movie date. Then I proceeded to fail the test because of my poor attempt at parallel parking. I had to call her and ask if her mom could pick us up and take us to the movie instead. Not surprisingly, we didn’t last.

But then I passed the next test and gained occasional access to a ‘92 Chevy — access briefly suspended when I hit a string of cones on a Milwaukee highway — to go out and see the world for the first time.

I’ve watched my daughter experience those firsts that a driver’s license provides, too. I have also been beset by fear — mostly because of everyone else on the road. I now understand my mother’s worries and prayers when I hit the road for the first time more than two decades ago.

This period has also awakened the acceptance of a new reality. My daughter’s license isn’t just the next stage in her development. It’s the latest chapter in young adulthood and the widening distance between parent and child that inevitably follows in any healthy relationship. She’s going to do her own thing soon. I support that. It scares me, too.

Beyond the personal emotions, the conversation about adolescent driving is complicated.

A bill introduced at the Minnesota State Capitol aims to require driver’s education for anyone 21 or younger. Right now, driver’s ed is only a requirement for teens under 17. The statistics show young drivers are the most vulnerable drivers, so I can understand why driver’s ed would be helpful for slightly older drivers too.

The bill seems to ignore, however, the financial implications. My daughter has parents who could spend hundreds of dollars on private driver’s ed and even private lessons for a quick refresh before she passed her test. We could take her to those classes and make sure she got home OK, too.

That process is costly, and it’s not attainable for many, especially as more options for free, community-based or school-sponsored programs are disappearing. How can a 19-year-old with a job — a job that likely doesn’t allow them to control their hours — get the cash for driver’s ed if this bill is passed? And even if online courses are available, it doesn’t solve the problem for many teens who wait until they’re 18 to drive so they can avoid the fees.

Others just don’t have the same interest in driving that I did at that age.

According to a recent study, nearly 40% of teens have delayed getting their driver’s licenses by one or two years. Their generation doesn’t need a car to keep up with friends. Technology minimizes their in-person interactions but also puts them in touch with one another and the world around them in ways I couldn’t have imagined while I was riding around town with a quarter in my pocket, hoping a pay phone was nearby just in case there was an emergency.

For my daughter and me, the driving experience wasn’t just technical. It was also an opportunity to spend more time together. We whipped around this city for months. I offered a lot of advice, some of which I made up on the spot. The truth is, I didn’t know how to teach the way her driving instructors did. I was freestyling.

The experience, I realized, wasn’t only about driving. It was about growing up. It was about all of this stuff we’d talked about for years: taking on new responsibilities, maturing, preparing for a world that won’t always hold her hand, enjoying and protecting her independence. Every driving lesson was a TED Talk. One day she even told me, “I can’t drive with you. I have to do this with mom.” I deserved that.

Looking back, I think I was actually the anxious one, as I recognized that every practice run was a sign of her inching toward a new life, one that may involve fewer phone calls, text messages, trips home and “Can you help me with this?” requests.

She has her license now. She doesn’t need me the same way she did before she had it.

And I’m proud of her for that.

But while we’re working on this driver’s ed dialogue and its impact on our kids, please let me know if you find a class for a dad who is struggling to understand how this all happened so fast.