Matthew is a robust driver, showing loads of confidence, and even a few seasoned Boston driving habits. He is, however, still learning about driving in the snow, and yesterday’s near accident is, I believe, mostly the result of my not taking him to the open playground of a deserted shopping mall.

Impatient to get to Daryl Sullo’s for the beginning of the Pat’s game, he and Robby Nadler hopped into the truck, while Diane and I futzed in the house. I watched from the window as he drove up and down the snowy driveway. Accelerating, braking, skidding, creating perhaps, a mini-mall experience. I worried as he accelerated backing up, afraid that without enough slick surface training, he would plow into Diane’s nearby car.

When we finally walked out to the truck, Diane hopped into the back seat with Robby, and I climbed into the front, passenger side. As Matthew began accelerating down the driveway, I reached over and pulled the gear shift down into four wheel drive. Normally I leave it in two wheel reasoning that he may someday drive his BMW in the winter. And besides, I thought it wise to toss a safety net between all that testosterone and the layers of ice and snow on the road.

We pulled out of the driveway, drove down Central, made a right on Martin and a sliding rear-end-wanting-to-break-loose, left turn onto Maple, Daryl’s street.

“Matt, if we were in two wheel drive, you would have slid into those trees.” Concise verbal parenting in lieu of that trip to the parking lot.

He often remarks on the difference between two and four wheel drive, but I’m not sure he believed me. He didn’t slow down. Daryl’s house is a half a block from that turn, and In front of his house, between the end of his driveway and a telephone pole, is a comfortable car’s length of parking space. And that’s where we were headed.

I saw the skidding stop in front of the telephone pole coming; I had witnessed the practice sessions in our driveway. But the realization came too late – I didn’t have time to say, “Matt, what you are about to do is inappropriate for these weather conditions.”

Fifteen feet from the pole, he hit the brake peddle and instantly – the annoying ABS chatter. Good system in theory, except we weren’t stopping, we weren’t even slowing down. We were, however, about to make a horrifyingly abrupt stop. That’s when Matt flicked his wrist to the left, guiding the chattering truck right on by, inches from the pole. He didn’t panic. He didn’t lock up with both feet on the brake, praying that the truck would stop. He could have, many people would have, but Matthew again showed his innate accident avoidance skill. And that, more than anything else he does in a car, reassures me. You know, In another month he’ll be on the road alone.

I don’t remember exactly what I said after the truck stopped feet beyond the pole. Maybe nothing, maybe a few squeaks in a high-pitched teenage girl kind of voice. I did, as Diane and I were driving off, call him on his cell phone to offer compliments on his cool under fire. And to drive home the other point I’d been making, “If we were in two wheel drive, the rear wheels would have let go and we would have broad sided that pole.”