The One Where I Learned to Drive

Back in high school my years of being blissfully unaware of the grown-up world were crushed when my increasingly twatheaded best friend decided to announce that I lacked the moral fibre and strength of character to carry on anything more taxing than poking at bits of canned pear with a spoon, and consequently would never manage to leave my parents basement suite.

 

Well in your face, ANNE. Five years later, for a mere $130 and that ever-so delightful warm rush of saliva you get when you’re about to be violently ill from strangling your wheel in a death-grip lock of terror I managed to finally pass my Driving Test! The trick, as it turns out, is to imagine every possible doomsday scenario that could possibly happen while driving in your car and act them all out simultaneously. Because as my instructor rightly pointed out anything travelling at a regulated 50km/hour has the impact of a dangerous bullet, and as a bullet it’s my civic duty to ignore the natural speed of traffic and instead move at the speed of a drooling, doddering pram baby who is attached to the belly of a glacier.

 

The best thing about being able to legally drive though is that now I can jump in my car and act like a diminutive Kerouac shouting things like Maps? Maps are for cowards! Just keep driving! Drive until there is no more road to drive on! While making plans to live by the ocean to raise wild geese and eat nothing but dandelions. Only after about half an hour of driving past pylons and residential houses I sort of lost interest and turned around to go home and watch Youtube. Which really is beside the point.

 

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About DreadfulBlog
A devilish combination of slightly bored and quite hungry

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