Backseat Driver: Mom holds the key to daughters' driving privileges
Duane Stanford - Staff
Monday, December 11, 2000

Jill Pastrick is anything but a "cool" mom. She'll crush the fun right out of a teen's night.

Yet her daughters adore her.

Katie and Kelli, 16 and 18 respectively, have been learning to drive under the kind of supervision even Florida chads don't get.

"They're always in my sight. It was either this way or no way," said Pastrick, a divorced mother from Lawrenceville who works as a surgical nurse.

"These are the most precious things in my life and I wasn't about to let them out there without some kind of guidelines."

Her style is unusual to say the least. Inspired, to be more accurate. At a time when teens are dying in avoidable wrecks --- much less at the current alarming rate in metro Atlanta --- Pastrick has decided to give her daughters a chance.

Like an invisible tether, Pastrick's rules are designed to be slowly loosened as her girls gain more experience and prove they can handle increased responsibility.

It all starts with something Pastrick calls the "10-10 rule." Simply put, you can't drive more than 10 miles per trip and you have to be in by 10 p.m. No exceptions.

The rule lasts for about a month and a half after the teenager gets her driver's license, enough time to get accustomed to a curfew and show she can leave early enough to get home.

"It was really hard at first," said Katie, a Collins Hill High School junior whose friends stay out until the wee hours of the morning. "I was always the one who had to say, 'I've got to go now.' "

Katie recalls once visiting a friend who lives five miles from her home. When she got there, the friend wanted to go to Waffle House.

"I just drove five miles," she told him, "and I've got five miles to get home." They stayed in.

Pastrick also concerns herself with whom her daughter drives.

For six months, Pastrick allows no more than one passenger at a time. There are exceptions to this rule on a case-by-case basis. Pastrick said she'd rather her daughters drive than be driven because she knows what experience they have.

After all, Pastrick did the training. Neither of her girls took driver's ed. Pastrick watched a class and didn't like the group method. She's not in favor of mandatory, state-funded driver's education either.

She said while the course can't hurt, too many parents rely on it as a crutch.

You might also be surprised to learn that Pastrick allowed her daughters to have their own cars almost immediately. Of course, there's a catch.

The cars have to be older models with proven safety records. And the girls had to pay half the purchase price. They pay most of the gas, maintenance and insurance, too.

Katie drives a 1988 Volvo passed down from her sister Kelli, who now drives a 1988 BMW.

Katie admits it's hard to watch kids drive around in 2000 sports cars they got from their parents. But she's not bitter.

"They just got handed the car," said Katie, who baby-sat all summer to pay for her ride. "This is going to sound weird, but I think it's great. I love it. I like being responsible for what I have."

Though she's out of the "10-10" period, Katie's still not allowed to drive north of Ga. 316 or west of I-85. Interstate driving is done with Mom only. Pastrick authorized Katie's first drive in the rain last month.

"She just wants us to get comfortable," Katie said of Mom. "I just want to get comfortable too."

Curfew is now 11:30 p.m., at the absolute latest.

"It seems reasonable to me," Katie said. "I get tired anyway."

Kelli, on the other hand, has gone away to North Georgia College. Mom can only sit back and hope the training will pay off.

While Katie has a clean driving record, Kelli has been cited once for not wearing a seat belt in her school parking lot.

Despite all of her work, Pastrick has a hard time feeling comfortable when her daughters are out on the road. Her heart stops every time she hears an ambulance.

Pastrick's former days as an ER nurse have supplied her with too many images. Like the 16-year-old girl who came in broken and bleeding years ago after a car crash.

"I remember what the girl looked like. I remember her parents having to be brought into the room and told," Pastrick recalled. "You never want to go through that."

Send me an e-mail at [email protected], call 770-263-3887, or write to 6455 Best Friend Road, Norcross, GA 30071.

e-mail: [email protected]