Drive the teens, get the gossip

No one enjoys gossip more than a female, unless it's a female journalist, which I just happen to be. I never imagined, though, that the best gossip/information I'd ever score would be while delivering my kids and their friends to the mall/downtown/Mark's house.

During the past few years, I've routinely ferried herds of skinny, long-haired adolescents around Toronto. After all, it seemed silly for their parents with the big salaries to be wasting their time in traffic when I made so little as a freelance writer. So busy have I become with my second job, I've replaced "Hello" with "Dispatch," followed by "I'll have a car there right away."

As an undercover reporter/cabbie, my routine is simple: I camouflage myself by slumping forward, flipping on an oldies station, establishing my oldness and likely deafness, then I get my directions and we're off.

Great gossip, with no one to tell

One Friday night, for instance, I stumble upon a prime piece of gossip as one teen in the vehicle announces he's just lost his virginity—in a graveyard, no less. He regales his guffawing buddies with the elaborate lie he's fed his parents. Great gossip, but who to tell? And, actually, who would care? My friends all lost their virginity years ago. If I tell his parents, he'll be grounded.

Or take this jewel from a Thursday night drive with a vanload of kids, hair dripping from swimming in a friend's pool.

Them: "We'll say we went to G.I. Joe at nine o'clock."

Me: "Your hair's wet. They'll know you're lying."

Them: "We'll say we went through a sprinkler."

Me: "Parents hate when you lie. Just tell them the truth. There's nothing wrong with swimming."

Them (ignoring me totally): "Yeah, the sprinklers in the park."

I totter on the high wire between fascination and horror when I hear their stories. How about this: "I finally did it, but don't worry—he's just a sex buddy," an attractive girl confides to my daughter as I veer over lawns and narrowly avoid parked cars. Or, "I'm giving up drinking. It's just too hard on me." Ah, the wisdom of a 16-year-old with an affection for strawberry coolers.

Sometimes I give advice—unable to control myself with such a captive audience. When counselling potentially law-breaking teens (and is there any other kind?), I point out that while a criminal record may not seem like a big deal, cross-border shopping could be jeopardized—a threat that should frighten at least the female pre-cons. Or will it? They stare intently as I speak, but are they really listening or simply hallucinating on my earrings?

Lately, my kids' friends have been getting their driver's licences (not my kids, thank god), so I'm left to grill their buddies at the door as my son searches for his favourite hoodie. Initially they think I'm trying to get the goods on him, but really I want to hear about their lives. "You still dating Leslie? The tattoo's healing, right? When's your court date?"

I will tell you: Ten times out of 10, teenagers have more interesting lives than adults. There's drama—breakups, hookups, detentions, overdoses, arrests (sometimes simultaneously).

Since ramping up my sleuthing skills, I'm the toast of adult cocktail parties, where everyone still thinks ecstasy is cutting edge. I also take great pride in being the only adult in the world who knows why teenagers like to do their community service hours at the vet's. (Hint: It has more to do with on-site pharmaceuticals than cute, fluffy animals.)

But hey, it's back to my job. And yes, I'd be happy to drive your kids to the outlet mall in heavy traffic. It may take an hour, but to me it's 60 Minutes.

More advice for parenting teens: Social media—what you need to know, how to spot and stop cyberbullying, and how gossip can do damage that lasts a lifetime.

This article originally appeared in the October 2009 issue of More