My son picked up his first car last week.  He is now the proud owners of a Ford Mustang.  I figured this was the end of my relaxing, calm life and the beginning of sleepless hours wondering when he would be home and if he would come home.  I figured now that he had his car, he would work less and party more.

Boy, was I wrong.

He is working more hours than ever now and I finally sat him down long enough to try and understand what goes through his brain.  He looked at me like I was from another planet and just said: “I want to soup-up my Mustang mom.”

I thought I must be an idiot, because as he rambled on in another language, I only understand a few words here and there.  He started talking about engines  Well, I know it’s that big thing under the hood, but I didn’t understand all this mumbo-jumbo about modifying it.  I am proud to know where to put the oil.

When he started talking dampers, springs and struts, and other Ford Mustang parts, I just nodded my head and thought about how nice the front flower bed would look in the fall when the asters would bloom.  When he finished telling me all his plans for the car, I was exhausted.  But I was also very thankful.  For now I realize, as long as there are modifications to be made, and he has to pay for them, I can continue to sleep at night.  For my independent boy with his new car, is not out killing himself on the highway, but tucked safely at work earning the cash to better his car.