Her ancestry does not hearken to the Mayflower, a slave ship, or Ellis Island. Her folklore is automotive. One of her great-grandfathers made windshields and sang in the Ford Motor Company Chorus, another was a foreman at the Dodge Main plant, and a third owned a Chrysler dealership back when fins were fins. She is cleanly, firmly spot-welded to generations of Detroiters. My daughter is a California baby, but her relatives continue to supply the world with American cars.
Cars are nothing but big heavy bullets.
It fell to me to teach the one I loved the most on earth to pilot a lethal weapon. I thought that prayer and contemplation might be a good place to start. In 1988, when my sister's daughter began driving, I bought her a book called Zen Driving by K.T. Berger. Somehow, just knowing that there is a book that considers Zen driving a possibility, was good enough for us all. However, if you're looking for a good read, the DMV provides enough paper to fill a glove box.