Book Review: "Life in the Slow Lane" by Thomas M. Sullivan

Title: Life in the Slow Lane: Surviving a Tour of Duty in Driver's Education

Author: Thomas M. Sullivan

Publisher: Uncial Press

ISBN, PUB Date: 1-60174-085-9, March 2010
Reviewed by: Dani Alexis Ryskamp for Author Exposure

I have not laughed so hard at a memoir since I read Wade Rouse's Confessions of a Prep School Mommy Handler.

Thomas M. Sullivan's Life in the Slow Lane is the delightful tale of his stint as a driver’s education instructor. Sullivan wastes no time diving into the giggle-fest that is driver’s education training. The first subject on the table is drunk driving, which Sullivan's home state of Oregon, apparently, excels at. “I guess every state has to excel at something,” Sullivan quips, remembering a very public DUI arrest he once watched, which featured an attempt by the driver to pass the infamous “walk and turn” test to the tune of Johnny Cash's “Walk the Line.” He also lauds his one “benefit” as a driver’s ed instructor: a free membership to AAA. After the drunk-driving lessons, however, a membership in AA might have been equally valuable.

Once Sullivan and his fellow driver’s education instructors are fully informed about the perils of putting teenagers behind the wheel, he begins taking on students – and their parents. For instance, there's Michelle, whose affluence has actually put her behind when it comes to driving because she “can't see over the hood” of her parents' SUV. Additionally, there are Matt and Thomas, two teenage lacrosse players who practice backseat driving with a double shot of sarcasm. Meanwhile, their mothers cluster in the parking lot and attempt to qualify for the “Special Olympics for Time-Stressed Affluent Mothers” by playing endless rounds of “I'm so busy that....”

But these kids, at least, have the advantage of showing up to their driving lessons on time – more or less. Not so for the son of overworked, upper middle-class Mrs. Johnson, who can't fit her son's driver's ed into his schedule to save her life, a problem that is, somehow, all Sullivan's fault. By the time James Johnson does arrive, Sullivan is near exhaustion. It's not the kids that have run him ragged, but the aggressive over-consumption represented by the prefabricated suburb of Beaverton and the equally aggressive selfishness of the drivers that clog its multi-lane thoroughfares.

When the parents, the training, or the maze of roadways aren't offering humorous material, the vehicles are. Sullivan passes his own training in his ancient Volvo, only to find himself stuck several weeks later with an ancient Chevy Malibu that makes ominous noises. When another instructor runs off with the Malibu, it's a blessing for Sullivan but a curse for the students who need to pass their driver’s ed tests as soon as possible, or risk the wrath of their overworked, SUV-piloting mothers.

Despite the speed bumps, Sullivan manages to find a benefit in teaching driver’s ed that beats the AAA membership hollow: the students. “These are really good kids,” he notes. “Even with all the pressure to succeed and get ahead as individuals, they remain generous and supportive towards one another, a refreshing response in a culture that often tells them to look out for number one.”