“We taking the freeway?” Jack asks as I get out from behind the wheel and cross to the passenger side. His schoolmates hoot at him from in front of the building, impressed by his learner’s permit. He struts to the car.

“Not a chance. There’s construction,” and probably will be for the next decade. For the past several months, they’ve been squeezing six lanes into two on the route to Jack’s school. Our normal 20 minutes can take twice as long or more now, depending upon factors I have yet to fathom.

We pull away, and I mouth “SAVE ME” at the kids, pawing the window for effect. They laugh appreciatively. It never gets old. Jack’s polite enough to let me poke fun.