I have a love hate relationship with driving, and cars in general I guess. Yet despite being a stickler for mixing up 1st gear and reverse when sitting at traffic lights (oops), I somehow managed to pass my driving test first time around at the ripe young age of 17. It seemed to go downhill quickly from there though (both figuratively and literally).
Exhibit A: having just passed my driving test, I eagerly drove my mum home from the local shopping centre one night. With me driving, and my mum in the passenger seat, we stopped at a set of traffic lights. When they eventually turned to green, I stalled the car and couldn’t get it started again in time to go before they turned back to red. You could cut the road rage tension with a knife, all the cars behind us clearly frustrated, cursing and swearing at me for holding them up. A good few minutes passed and the lights remained at red, we waited and waited. Five minutes passed, five whole minutes…and the lights remained at red. People started honking their horns, my mum and I in a whirlwind of exasperation, embarrassment and confusion. Eventually (and to this day, I’m still not even sure why we thought it would be a good idea), we decided in a state of panic that my mum should get out of the car and press the button at the pedestrian crossing. I guess our logic was similar to that of the “turn it off and back on again” mentality, whereby when something breaks down or gets blocked, pressing the button would kick-start it again. But you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to guess what happened next… As soon as she hit the button, the lights turned to green and off I sped…without her. For a split second, I was so proud of myself for shooting off and freeing the disgruntled queue of cars behind me. Then I took a quick glance in my mirror and saw my poor mum standing waving her arms in the air in disbelief. I pulled in at the next available turning, and waited on her running up the side of the dual carriage way, I’m surprised fume wasn’t coming out of her ears. I felt awful! And unfortunately I can’t say it was an isolated incident of me doing something ridiculous…onto exhibit B!
An old boyfriend and I decided to take a day trip one Sunday to a place about an hour away. Without thinking twice, I parked my car in a multi-story car park and off we went for a bite to eat and to explore. Little did we know that the car park closed early on a Sunday, so when we ventured back to get the car at 7pm, it was completely closed. We had no other choice but to phone my mum and dad to come and rescue us! They had to come all the way to pick us up, take us home, then do the round trip once again the following day to pick the car back up…and pay the overnight parking ticket (thanks for coming to my rescue for the 128926th time mum and dad!).
Now exhibit C doesn’t actually involve me driving, but it involves being in my friend’s car, and surely it’s only fair for these ridiculous things to happen to someone else once and a while too? Years ago, a few of the girls decided we would go to the seaside for the day to celebreate my friend just recently passing her driving test and getting a car. ROADTRIP! But…we got half way there and we got a flat tire. We ended up having to abandon the car at the side of the motorway and get a ride home with her sister who worked nearby. My friend and her dad then headed back down later that afternoon to change the tyre. But guess what happened? They drove all the way there that evening…only for her to forget the car keys!
So all of that being said, if you and I ever have to go somewhere together, I highly recommend we get public transport or you offer to drive yourself 🙂
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