So I’m two driving lessons down and suprisingly enough, no-one is dead or injured and Reading’s pedestrians seem to be going about their business, free from the fear of me mounting the pavement and ending their lives.
As it turns out, driving is actually pretty cool.
Now, I’m only two lessons in, so I’m clearly no expert in these affairs, but I don’t think I’m QUITE as awful as I expected. The changing gear thing isn’t as terrifying as I thought and apparently I’m one of the quickest students to master the “feeding” thing you have to do with the steering wheel. This pleases me.
I’d go as far to say that at the moment, I’m actually enjoying driving. Despite the fact it still terrifies me that I can make a car move. It’s mental. How do people go around driving all day, making large objects move? Madness.
BUT THERE IS SO MUCH LEARNING TO DO. ergh. I’ll resolve to soldier on, but I have a feeling my general laziness means I will inevitably flake on this at some point. Hmm.
The other problem with learning to drive is working out precisely what to do when your instructor is unbelievably fit. Why do these things have to happen to me? I manage to fancy most people in the world (a combination of not being fussy and having a peculiar taste in men) and it’s a real pain in the arse when they become a key figure in your life. I’ve fancied teachers, managers, colleagues and now a bloke who is essentially in charge of my freedom.
I need a boyfriend.