From the moment she got her learner's permit, I was more worried about the nut cases she would confront on the road than my daughter's ability to drive a car. During the next 10 months she encountered a guy—driving a monster Ford Expedition—who almost turned the wrong way on a one-way street; a mattress that came flying into our lane on San Tomas Expressway because some fool tried tying it down with rope that looked like dental floss; and her daily share of rude drivers.

Yet through it all, which included a considerable amount of nail-biting between us, I never had second thoughts about my daughter getting her license. We all remember that moment—the day we could take off on our own—and that sense of instant freedom. But the realities of learning to drive today versus back in the '60s and '70s are completely different. Decades ago there were fewer drivers and freeways and no SUVs.

With this change in the driving climate, the most difficult part of the process was teaching her to develop that sixth sense on the road—dealing with the intangibles once she was behind the wheel. How would she become proficient in this area? It takes most of us years because the knowing comes with experience.

So becoming a savvy driver is where I worried for her the most. How did I teach her to recognize that driver who was about to come screaming up on her bumper as she merged on to the freeway? "Accelerate," I shouted.

How did I teach her to develop driving vision—looking farther ahead than the immediate cars—so she could react safely to things like the flying mattress incident? "Watch out," I exclaimed.

And of course, today we have the driver talking-on-the-phone nightmare that takes road awareness to a whole new level. "The idiot's not paying attention," I told her as the driver began veering into our lane.

But none of these things were going to prevent her from believing she was ready to take her driving test after six months, the mandatory waiting time after getting a learner's permit. The problem was that after six months I absolutely knew she wasn't ready. She wasn't negotiating intersections and unprotected left turns with authority, and she was hesitating too much in her overall decision-making. There were a number of times I told her she wasn't looking enough in both directions when she got to a stop sign. But that was Mom talking. So we made that DMV appointment.

In hindsight, I absolutely should have been more insistent that she wait. What I now know and want to strongly emphasize is that six months of practice is absolutely too short a period of time for any teen. There is no way they are proficient drivers unless they live out in the boonies and have been driving on some farm since age 10.

Fortunately, the Los Gatos DMV tester saw the same thing, and my daughter failed her first test. In fact, we had this great lady, who actually took the time to tell my daughter all the things she needed to work on. It was everything I had told her, giving me a whole lot more credibility. Now she had two more tries.

The second time she failed it was a month later. This time she was too nervous, but once again I wasn't completely convinced she was ready to go solo. And, I think something far greater than us was protecting her from harm, because a couple of days later we almost got hit on the way to school. It was my yelling, "Don't go," that prevented the accident.

However, two weekends ago it all seemed to click. We had numerous errands, and she did all the driving. She drove with authority, anticipated some sticky situations, and I found myself barely looking out my side mirror or over my shoulder. Finally, I knew she was ready. So when she took her test on Friday and passed with flying colors, I was excited for her, not scared. The DMV tester—ironically the one who failed her the first time—even wrote on her test, "Great Drive."

So if there is any advice I an offer it's this: No matter what your kid says, six months is definitely not enough time and maybe 10 months isn't either. But when you stop looking over your shoulder, clinging to the door handle and willingly hand over the car keys, you know your teen is a driver.

Moryt Milo is the editor of The Willow Glen Resident. She can be contacted at 400.200.1051 or mmilo@svcn.com.