It starts like this:
I don't drive. I don't have a license. Sure, I'm old enough, but I don't want the hassle of a car or insurance or driving my younger sibling around.
So how do I get around? My mom and dad drive me everywhere. They take me to school and to my job - they figure they owe me that. And when I want to party, they drop me at a friend's house and pick me up. No drinking and driving for me.
I read that part and asked, honestly, "Don't you want a license? Don't you want that freedom?"
"Nah," he said. "I have plenty of freedom already."
I kept reading.
I cruise in the back seat or passenger seat. I text my friends, look out the window. I figure it's a lot less stress on me, and as I'm still young and developing it has to be easier on me. I know my parents like it, because they always tell me they like to have me around.
I'll get older, I know, but as most things in Kensington are close enough, I can always hitch a ride. My mom only works 20 hours a week so I schedule my events for when she's free. Or I can always call my dad. He came home one afternoon to take me to a job interview, and he often calls this our "private time" to talk."Are you going to do this forever?" I asked.
"Sure," he said. "I like it here. Once I finish college I'll stay here and get a better job. I have a nice room in the basement, a lot of privacy, and I know my parents like having me around."
The essay concludes:
I think of it as a favor to my parents. I know some kids who are distant from theirs, but not me. They're always with me in the car and we can talk about our days until we get where I'm going. And when I call, they come and we can talk about the fun I had. In fact I wrote most of this essay while my drove me to and from school this week. I read it to her and she thought it was great.
I guess I'm just not a driver!