Fun fact: Louisville, Kentucky is #7 on the Forbes Advisor list of “Top 10 Cities with the Worst Drivers,” with the fifth highest number of fatal accidents caused by a distracted driver. I think about this often as I sit in the passenger seat with my youngest son behind the wheel, still driving with only a permit, not yet ready to get his full license.

I honestly don’t recall how I taught my older son to drive. Something about the kinds of video games he plays and a natural intuition seemed to do most of the work for me. The pandemic might’ve also been a factor, with fewer people on the roads. I don’t know, I just don’t remember other drivers being so terrifying or impatient.

When I added the “Student Driver” magnet to the back of our car, my youngest said, “It’s not going to help, mom.” But I insisted, convinced that if the drivers around us know he’s new, surely they’ll make allowances. “Just put your turn signal on and someone will let you over,” I said, as car after car whizzed past, cutting him off and making a lane change virtually impossible. I swear to him, over and over, my clutching the door handle has nothing to do with his driving and everything to do with Louisville drivers.

Most nights, I lie in bed wishing for any stage of child development but this one. Middle of the night feedings. Potty training. The first year of middle school. I’d do them all over again, multiple times, if I could skip this one instead. But here we are. So, I remind myself that all of those phases felt like an eternity and one day I’ll look back on this one, too, just as I do those.

And in the meantime? I control what I can.

When I’m the one behind the wheel, I’ve started pretending that all the drivers around me are new drivers, like my son. Instead of getting frustrated with their horrific driving habits, I let them cut me off. I leave extra room so they can change lanes unexpectedly. I root them on and wish them luck, resist the urge to curse their bad driving, and pray they make it to their destination.

I tend to think this little game I play will be about as effective as the “Student Driver” magnets on the back of my car. But who knows? Maybe my patience will rub off on someone or make someone else’s driving lesson just a little less terrifying. Until I can figure out a way to wrap my son in a bubble and protect him from all that I fear, I’m going to be the change I want to see in the drivers that hold my child’s life in their hands.