Отец вспоминает, как учил сына водить машину.
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Two years ago my son Max decided to learn to drive. He was seventeen, and he really wanted it. I said yes, but I wasn't sure. I still remember my own first time in a car. It was a long, hard day, and I almost hit another car.
So one Sunday morning we went out of the city to a small road. There were no other cars there, only a few houses and a lot of fields.
Max sat down and looked at me. “What do I do first?” he asked. I showed him everything: how to start the car, how to stop and how to turn.
For the first ten minutes everything went well. Then a big white car came from the other side. Max stopped the car and said: “I can't do this.”
I didn't say a word. I just waited, and the white car went past us. Then I told him: “You can. Just take your time.” He started again, and this time he didn't stop.
We drove for two hours that day. On the way home Max talked all the time. At home he told everyone in the family about the road, the fields and the big white car.
Today Max is nineteen, and he drives to work every day. He often says: “Thank you for that Sunday.” I remember it too. It was a good day for both of us.