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When I finally got behind the wheel of a car myself, conceit and self-importance set in. If ever I saw someone with that familiar awe-struck gape staring at my car during one of my innumerable driving lessons, I would think, with a shameful amount of pride, "I am cooler than you because I am operating a motor vehicle right now."
On May 7, exactly 16 years minus 5 1/2 hours after his birth, my son, Gabe, took his driving test at the Winnetka Department of Motor Vehicles office.