drive time
I first started learning to drive about eight years ago. My father volunteered to take me out for my initial attempt behind the wheel. After just one lesson he declared that teaching me to drive would almost certainly ruin our relationship and he handed the responsibility over to Denise, my stepmom. Den was a wonderful instructor but my yearning for freedom was not strong enough to withstand the damage I caused to her new car on impact with a pillar. This little incident set me back about six years and I still shudder whenever I am in an underground parking lot.
For a few months my ever tolerant husband attempted to tutor me in the ways of the road until I could see that his sentiments were starting to align with those of my father. It was time to call in the professionals. After hours, upon hours, of lessons with Michael and too many pounds to want to recall, I passed my test first time, much to all previous 'instructors' amazement. The examiner told me to just ease off the accelerator a little (speeding? me?) otherwise I was now free to brave the streets of London on my own.
No one can prepare you for the neves you experience before that dreaded test. I spent the two days prior to it biting my lip and shaking. Equally, no one can explain the liberty you feel when granted your licence. Oh elation! No more waiting for lifts or freezing unnecessarily at bus stops. Gone are the days of lugging heavy grocery bags down the road.
There is something about obtaining your driver's licence that makes you feel all grown up. I have this urge to just carry my car keys around so that everyone can see I'm a driver. 'That's right Mr Sainbury's man - you see these keys? If I am old enough to drive I am old enough to buy a bottle of wine so you can just refrain from asking me for ID this time.
Fox has generously given me my own car key for 'our' car and now sits biting his tongue when I'm driving. We'll see how long it lasts before he can't resist questioning whether I have seen the cyclist who is a good 100 metres ahead. And now begins many years of repayment by way of 'designated driver'. He knew paying a professional was worth the long term investment. And I'm happy that the testing of my driving capabilities as well as family relationships is now done and dusted. About time too.
For a few months my ever tolerant husband attempted to tutor me in the ways of the road until I could see that his sentiments were starting to align with those of my father. It was time to call in the professionals. After hours, upon hours, of lessons with Michael and too many pounds to want to recall, I passed my test first time, much to all previous 'instructors' amazement. The examiner told me to just ease off the accelerator a little (speeding? me?) otherwise I was now free to brave the streets of London on my own.
No one can prepare you for the neves you experience before that dreaded test. I spent the two days prior to it biting my lip and shaking. Equally, no one can explain the liberty you feel when granted your licence. Oh elation! No more waiting for lifts or freezing unnecessarily at bus stops. Gone are the days of lugging heavy grocery bags down the road.
There is something about obtaining your driver's licence that makes you feel all grown up. I have this urge to just carry my car keys around so that everyone can see I'm a driver. 'That's right Mr Sainbury's man - you see these keys? If I am old enough to drive I am old enough to buy a bottle of wine so you can just refrain from asking me for ID this time.
Fox has generously given me my own car key for 'our' car and now sits biting his tongue when I'm driving. We'll see how long it lasts before he can't resist questioning whether I have seen the cyclist who is a good 100 metres ahead. And now begins many years of repayment by way of 'designated driver'. He knew paying a professional was worth the long term investment. And I'm happy that the testing of my driving capabilities as well as family relationships is now done and dusted. About time too.
posted by foxy_roxtar at 5:45 AM
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