And Remember: Drive Defensively

I knew this day would come. As a parent, you prepare for the inevitability. I just thought I had more time. One evening at the dinner table, she just drops it on you without any warning, and you have to respond in that moment, whether you’re ready or not.

“No. Absolutely not,” I tell her. “Why does a ten-year-old need her own computer anyway?” I hold my breath, dreading the answer.

And sure enough, “Because you won’t let me download new programs on yours, and I want to play Fortnite with my friends.”

Boom goes the dynamite.

I sneak a glance at her father, daring him to pipe up. He has wisely buried his gaze in his meal, avoiding her imploring look.

“Honey, you’re too young to play Fortnite,” I tell her, realizing too late that providing a reason for my answer just gives her an obstacle to overcome.

“I am not too young!” she stamps her foot and pouts. “Kailey’s parents think she’s old enough to play. Why can’t I?”

“Because it’s too violent, and I don’t want you wasting time on something like that when you’re supposed to be learning and exploring.”

“You never let me do anything fun!” The pout deepens. The lip quivers.

Now I’m looking back over at Dad, this time with a genuine desire for help. He notices (God, I love our non-verbal communication).

“Sadie’s right,” he smiles at our daughter. I feeling a twinge of rage and betrayal when he also grins at me and says, “I’m sure we can find a compromise. What are some games that are fun and educational?” He raises his eyebrow. A challenge. This, I like.

“Sounds impossible,” Sadie sulks, pushing her chair away from the table. But she still looks up at me, waiting for my suggestion. Probably so she can shoot it down, but waiting, nonetheless.

I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something, but I haven’t had ample time to prepare. I’m sure some parent online magazine has suggestions somewhere, but she’s looking at me now.

“I, uhhhh,” I struggle. Completely blanking under the pressure.

“Well, Mom, what kind of games did you like to play when you were Sadie’s age?” Dad to the rescue, yet again. I’ll have to reward him later.

Computer games? Me? Oh my god, it’s been years. I never really… I was more of a book nerd. Spent most of my recesses in the library—my eyes light up.

“I remember a game I loved,” I tell Sadie. “I used to play it all the time. Was even more fun than the recess playground.”

Sadie narrows her eyes at me like, “Do go on…”

I let nostalgia wrap me up like a blanket burrito as I try to convey to her how much I adored this game.

“Okay, so it was called Cross Country USA. You play a truck driver.”

Dad is holding back surprised laughter. I ignore him. I am on Shark Tank, but there’s only one investor whose opinion matters.

“Your goal is to collect commodities from one state and drive along the highway until you reach your destination, then you drop them off in another state.”

“What’s a commodity?”

“It’s like a material or food: peanuts, lumber, corn, that sort of thing.”

“Okay, and then what?”

“That’s it. Then you just pick another commodity, and you drive to another place.”

“How do you win?”

“Well, there’s no real end to the game. I guess you just sort of drive commodities around, dropping them off and earning money until you get tired of playing.”

“Oh, you earn money! That’s cool.”

“Well, I mean it’s not real money. It’s like in-game money.”

“Can you buy things in the game?”

“Well, more commodities.”

My pitch hangs in the air as Sadie processes it. Finally, she bursts into laughter. Dad can’t hold back anymore either. He starts laughing too.

“Mom, no offense, but that sounds so stupid.”

Dad doesn’t disagree with her. “I thought you were going to say Oregon Trail or Carmen Sandiego or something.”

They're ganging up on me.

“You don’t understand! It was very fun and challenging.”

“I guess driving a truck does involve skill. Is it difficult steering around other cars on the road?”

“Well no. I mean once you set the direction you’re going in, the game drives on autopilot and you watch the highway go by.”

“So, you don’t do anything? Is there different scenery?”

“Sometimes it’s the same five second loop of a coastline and sometimes it’s the same five second loop of a forest. But there are lots of different components to manage! Like it gets dark, and you have to turn on the headlights. Or it starts raining and you have to turn on the windshield wipers.”

“What if you don’t?”

“Well, then the game tells you that you have to, and you can’t continue until you do.”

“So, there isn’t even any strategy.”

“That’s not true! You have to choose the right road to take. So, you have to look at a map and click the direction on a compass. And if the road doesn’t go that way, the game won’t let you go that way.”

“Uh huh.”

“And!” I’m scrambling now. “Sometimes you get hungry, so you have to stop at a diner. And at night you get sleepy, so you have to either find and pay for a motel or find a spot on the side of the road to sleep on.”

“You played a game that requires you to go to bed?”

“There was a time lapse!”

“Dad, can I please play Fortnite instead of whatever this is?”

“Wait, no. It was exciting! You could stop and pick up hitchhikers.”

“And?”

“And well sometimes they robbed you of your commodities.”

“Was there… ever a benefit to picking them up?”

“Well no. Sometimes they were harmless and just said thank you and went on their way.”

“So, you could just… never pick them up if you wanted.”

“Well yes, that was the smart strategy.”

“So, what’s the point of having them in the game??”

“I don’t know!” I’m losing this conversation and I know it. “I guess the lesson was to not pick up hitchhikers.”

Sadie rolls her eyes. “You’re right. That’s super educational.”

“Where did you go to school?” Dad is still laughing. “I have never heard of this game. Are you sure you didn’t dream it up?”

“It was real! Come on. I’ll show you.”

We crowd around the computer. I search the title and the results populate, including a playthrough on YouTube. I click on it triumphantly.

“See?”

The graphics are not what I remember, but the screeching tires and beeping horn make me feel like a kid again.

“Looks riveting,” Sadie says.

She’s right. It doesn’t really hold up, I admit. “Someone should remake it. I bet with the right graphics and world-building, this could make millions.”

“Mom, look. That already exists,” Sadie says. How does she find other playthroughs so quickly? She’s right. There is an expansive, modern version. Something called American Truck Simulator.

Woah.

How long has this been around?

“Scooch,” I say, gently making room next to her on the computer chair.

***

By the time Dad has gotten Sadie ready for bed, I have built my own fleet of trucks and am delivering a shipment of avocados from Mexico to Pittsburgh.

“Hon,” I say. “I think we’re going to need to get Sadie her own computer.”