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 teacher 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 nervous．

Since I could no longer practice with her，the job was placed in the hands of my father．The idea of learning from Dad was not one that thrilled me．I loved him dearly，but I just did not see Dad as someone I could be comfortable learning from．He almost never talked．We shared a typical father-daughter relationship．He'd ask how school was，and I'd say it was fine．Unfortunately，that was the most of our conversations．Spending hours alone with someone who might as well have been a stranger really scared me．

As we got into the car that first time，I was not surprised at what happened．Dad and I drove around，saying almost nothing，aside from a few instructions on how to turn．As my lessons went on，however，things began to change．Dad would turn the radio up so I could fully appreciate his favorite Stones music．And he actually began talking．I was soon hearing about past failed dates，"basic body"gym class，and other tales from his past，including some of his first meeting with Mom．

Dad's sudden chattiness was shocking until I thought about why he was telling me so much in the car．In all the years that I had wondered why my father never spoke that much，I had never stopped to consider that it was because I had never bothered to listen．Homework，friends，and even TV had all called me away from him，and，consequently，I never thought my quiet father had anything to say．

Since I began driving with him，my driving skill has greatly increased．More important，though，is that my knowledge of who my father is has also increased．Just living with him wasn't enough-it took driving with him for me to get to know someone who was a mystery．