When she asked to sit the test I didn't mind, as it's a lot of stuff to remember, and despite her being an A-grade student, study, preparation and homework aren't her strong suits.
We got her a road code book and I couldn't believe what happened. The thing was never out of her sight and she pored over it noon and night until it took on that dog-eared look of a well-read novel.
It wasn't much later that she wanted to book her test and get her learner's licence. I was a bit concerned but not overly so because trying to remember all that bumf was still going to be a big ask despite it being a ridiculous multi-guess quiz.
The day of the test dawned and I'd sort of forgotten about it until the phone rang. I still can't hear that well out of my right ear after the yell of sheer, unadulterated joy that boomed down the line informing me she had indeed passed the test. Bugger - now we have to go out driving ...
One drawback, or I should really say bonus (written with clenched teeth), is that all I got in my ear for the next few weeks was a continuing litany while I drove: I didn't indicate soon enough, I was following too closely, did I know what the speed limit in such-and-such a zone was, how fast I'm allowed to pass a school bus, etc etc.
It went on and on and on until I suggested that if she wanted to drive my car she'd need to zip it - or save up and buy her own car.
I knew I would win that one, as money and my daughter never really have long-term friendships. I'm not suggesting she's bad at saving, just not overly motivated, and if it's there it might as well be spent, because that's what it was invented for. Can't criticise the logic, I suppose.
As I have mentioned before, I think parents are the worst teachers when it comes to driving, because any bad habits you have get passed straight on to the learner and the cycle of abysmal New Zealand driving skills keeps going around and around. Therefore, my wife and I have been getting our junior petrolhead professional lessons from a qualified driving instructor.
Needless to say, at $60 a pop I'm not funding the 120 hours of driving recommended by the Transport Agency. As a result she gets to drive my Honda Civic on occasion to get her hours up. It's been an interesting journey, to say the least.
Watching her get the hang of accelerator, clutch, hand brake and traffic is something to behold. The hard part is not to say too much because we've all been there, bunny-hopping across an intersection with enough force to rattle the teeth inside a T-Rex.
There is even more room in the passenger footwell from all the thrusting on the invisible brake pedal since my wife and I have been sitting on that side of the car while junior drives.
I'll give my daughter credit for her quick wit when it comes to snap answers.
My wife was with her on the way out to the countryside when she started to veer towards a line of cones on the side of the road.
When my wife mentioned they were about to hit the cones, my daughter quipped back that it would be better to hit the cones than the traffic coming the other way. Hard to argue against that sort of stoic logic.
After a month or so now of the big adventure the child is getting much better and it is because she is getting a lot of time behind the wheel and getting professional tutoring.
Still, there are times when you realise she is only 15, especially when it comes to reversing. That's when I get the call to sort it out.
As yet we haven't hit anything. Mind, you'd be hard pushed to notice on my old Honda, and looking at it positively, her being allowed to drive has provided my wife and I with the perfect threat material.
It's bloody marvellous. All I have to do is start a sentence with: "If you want to go driving this afternoon you will have to ..." Excellent.
So my advice is to look at the positive.
I'll report back in a month or two to let you know how she's getting on and the state of my nerves and the clutch, and the gearbox ...
