Last night, I picked up a bunch of 16-year-old boys on my son’s basketball team to transport them to a pasta feed.

Listening to boys banter with each other is hilarious–girls would be crying over some of those comments. (For example: “Nick, are you sure you used deodorant today? Cuz you smell so bad I can hardly breathe.” Nick assured the accuser that he had used deodorant. Twice, he said earnestly.)

A couple of the boys have just received their drivers’ license so they followed us, one by one, to the pasta feed. (California law prohibits teen drivers to carry passengers until they’ve had their license for one year. A good law!)

Andrew, one of the players, drives a purple hot rod. The boys in my car were laughing because they said Andrew drove like a little old lady.

I thought the boys were just making fun of Andrew for the sake of…well, just making fun of someone. That’s what boys do.

But after I dropped the kids off at the pasta feed, I drove back down the street…and sure enough, Andrew passed me in his purple hot rod–hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel, concentrating intently, driving less than 20 miles per hour! There were a string of impatient cars behind him…but he didn’t care.

Frankly, I think Andrew is a model citizen.

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