From Convoy to Carpool: A Veteran Dad’s Driving Lessons

Serving overseas in the military changed my life in more ways than one. During my service, I was trained to operate large tactical vehicles—everything from Humvees to armored transport trucks. These weren’t just tools of transportation; they were lifelines in high-pressure, high-stakes environments. Driving in the military taught me discipline, patience, and awareness under pressure. Years later, those same lessons are being passed down in a very different setting—at home, as I teach my blended family of seven children how to drive.

Being a disabled veteran comes with challenges, both seen and unseen. But fatherhood has given me purpose beyond my years in uniform. With a house full of teenagers and young adults, we’re currently at the stage where driving has become the central topic of conversation. Some of our kids are already driving, others have their permits, and a few are still wide-eyed in the passenger seat—eager for their turn. Our ages range from 15 up, and it feels like we’re behind the wheel with someone new every week.

What makes our situation unique isn’t just the size of our family—it’s how we approach teaching driving. Having driven military vehicles through rugged terrain, in unpredictable weather, and under extreme pressure, I bring a different awareness to civilian driving. I know what it means to rely on your training, to stay alert, and to be responsible for others’ lives. While my kids may not be navigating a convoy through combat zones, they are stepping into a world where distractions are everywhere, and quick decisions can change everything.

First, I tell them that driving is a privilege, not a right. It demands focus, respect, and maturity. There was no room for carelessness in the military—one wrong move could risk a mission or life. While civilian roads are different, the weight of responsibility remains. I stress to my children that every time they step into a car, they hold power in their hands. That kind of responsibility should never be taken lightly.

My disability may prevent me from doing some of the physical things I once could, but it hasn’t stopped me from guiding my children. I sit beside them as they drive, offering calm, steady instruction. I talk them through traffic patterns, defensive driving techniques, and what to do in emergencies. We review signs and rules and how to anticipate the actions of other drivers. But I also share stories of how I had to stay focused in situations where lives depended on it. I don’t share them to scare—they’re meant to teach perspective.

Our family doesn’t just practice driving—we discuss it constantly. At the dinner table, we discuss news stories about traffic accidents and what could’ve been done differently. We quiz each other on traffic laws and share moments from the road—good and evil. My wife and I work as a team to keep our kids accountable, responsible, and aware. With so much learning at once, it can feel overwhelming, but we believe the effort now will pay off for years to come.

From this experience, I’ve learned that being a driving teacher is also being a life teacher. Our children aren’t just learning how to steer, park, or merge—they’re learning patience, self-control, awareness, and respect. I tell them the road reflects life: sometimes smooth, sometimes chaotic, but always requiring them to keep their eyes forward and stay calm under pressure.

Watching my kids grow into safe, confident drivers has become one of my proudest parenting experiences. It’s a full-circle moment: I went from a young soldier, driving through foreign terrain, unsure of what the next day would bring, to a father, guiding my children down the road to adulthood. It’s humbling. It’s rewarding. And it reminds me that service doesn’t end with a uniform—it continues in the example I set every single day.

We may not have the fanciest cars or the flashiest lessons, but we offer our children real-world experience, guidance built on discipline, and lessons rooted in love. They may not always remember every instruction I give, but I hope they’ll never forget the feeling of sitting next to their dad—who believed in them, protected them, and helped them take their first tangible steps toward independence.

Driving isn’t just about getting from one place to another. It’s about navigating life. And if I can give my children even a fraction of the strength, awareness, and discipline I learned serving overseas, then I know I’ve done my job.