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I have to give my early stage dementia (definitely slipping but far more alert than Joe Biden) mother a driving lesson. She wants to learn my Dad’s car, in case she needs to drive it. It’s 8 miles each way. She needs to use my Dads car because it has the hookup for the portable oxygen. They’re both small Lincoln’s but my Dads has automatic start and no shift column. 

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2 hours ago, Airehead said:

8 miles to where?

The grocery store. We made it but two close calls. The first was a very close call where she started to  pull in front of a pickup doing about 45 in a 30. I said “stop” and she did. If I didn’t tell her, she probably would have crashed, badly. The 2nd wasn’t as bad, but she had a right hand turn signal on, but her turn was into the 2nd driveway. The cars in the first driveway probably thought she was turning in front of them, so they could pull out. 

In the store I made her turn the keys over to me. I’m still mad at myself for letting my grandpa drive on a visit to his house in 1996. Turned into a terrifying drive. 

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