The Problem With Driving…

Along with the standard New Years resolutions of drinking less, eating better and trying to avoid any more bad decisions that might result in me getting hit by a cop or getting chased by a very angry, very pregnant, sheep (I know I’ve said it before, but I really do promise I’ll tell you all the story of that sorry incident soon) I decided that, this year, I would get my ability to drive back on track.

For those of you who don’t know; Brighton is a perpetual one-way system – and a confusing one at that. So, after a few touch and go moments where I may or may not have found myself unintentionally ten miles from home and sobbing into my steering wheel down an unknown side street, I made the educated decision to ditch the driving for the two years I was there. Of course, as soon as I returned to Liverpool I jumped into my little Astra expecting to pick up where I left off.

What I didn’t expect was for those first couple of trips to turn me into a jibbering wreck and remind me of those traumatic learning-to-drive days all those years ago. So, between having to fight my natural urge to drive everywhere at 50 mph, (which, coincidentally isn’t an ideal speed for a dual carriageway or for near a school) and having to leave the house 20 minutes early every time I drive somewhere, knowing full well I’ll have to circle the block a couple of times waiting for any pavement on-lookers to fuck off, before I can start tackling the laborious and horrific task of parallel parking… here are just a few of the problems I encounter while driving.

Driving Other People’s Cars

My car may be a little tank, (that mists up dangerously every time someone dares to breath inside it on a cold day and only has one wing mirror) but it’s what I’m used to – so climbing behind a wheel of a different car is as terrifying as trying to drive a plane. I should have realised how long it takes me to get used to a new car when The Boyfriend’s Dad asked me to move his and I accidentally stalled into a BMW and nearly knocked the registration plate clean off - but after finding some ridiculously cheap car hire in Spain last time I was there, I decided I would be fine. The mistake I may was to opt for an automatic rather than a manual model – I can tell you right now, starting your holiday sobbing at a petrol station after slamming the breaks on a Spanish motorway thinking it was the clutch and only narrowly avoiding being hit by a Coca Cola truck, was not an ideal situation. I swear, I was sweating up so much one of my fake eyelashes actually fell off into my lap.

Cyclists

Oh god Cyclists, I guarantee that one of these idiots will be the reason I end up in prison before I’m 26 for accidentally giving one a lift home on my bonnet. If I’m unlucky enough to be on a bike when a 3000lb vehicle is looming behind me, I get as far away as possible and stop – what I do not do is continue to wobble ahead, filling the driver with fear like most of these maniacs do. If I drive past a cyclist without any bloodshed, in my book, the day has been a success.

Residential Roads

Nestled deep in the heart of suburbia, these roads lure us into a false sense of security. With virtually no traffic, expensive cars lining both sides of the road and group of kids playing football these seem like a scene out of family heaven. Until, of course, you have to drive down one, when it quickly changes from a picturesque haven into one of those crazed car-chase games where you get 10 points for knocking over the ‘bad guys’ and 30 points for avoiding the baby.

I could go on and on, but to honest I’d suddenly very aware I may be setting myself up to get my license revoked, so I think I’ll leave it there. But, please, tell me I’m not the only one who wonders on a daily basis how they ever passed their test in the first place..?