This is clever:
I cannot drive.
I will be getting lifts for the rest of my sad little life.
Well, that’s how I felt last night. This morning I feel slightly better after a big glass of red wine and a sleep. (The wine was consumed last night of course and not for breakfast.)
Last night, my lovely instructor Dave (not his real name) decided I was ready to risk my life, his life and the pedestrians and motorists of South Dublin by leaving the estate and taking to the main roads. At first I felt exhilarated and brave – was it really me moving this massive lethal weapon? We sauntered along for a bit, feeling great as I moved steadily up the gears. All was lovely. I felt powerful.
But then – red lights. Biiiig red lights. On a hill. With cars behind me. Looking rather impatient to get to wherever they were going so busily at 8pm on a Tuesday evening. And then – the fear set in. And would not let go. I could feel drivers beady eyes burning ‘LEARNER’ into the back of my head. If looks could kill….
However, with deep breaths and some gentle foot removing from the clutch, I moved off from the lights with only a slight kangaroo hop. And all should have been well. But for some bizzarre reason, the more lights I approached, the more nervous I became. I have no idea why – I was moving the car, I’d ‘only’ cut out three times (twice at the same lights), and Dave hadn’t shouted at me too loudly. Yet.
As we approached the home run, I actually confused green lights for red and began to slow down in a panic. Up to that point, most of the lights I had come up to were red by some annoying coincidence and so in my tired frazzled state, I lost all sense of reason and how to tell one colour from another. Dave kindly informed me of my mistake hence I panicked some more and madly revved the car round the turn in to my estate. After narrowly missing some innocent bystanders, I could breathe, I was back into the estate. And nobody had died, or even been maimed.
We had a quick debriefing, where he told me that I hadn’t done that bad at all really whilst I pretended to smile, all the while praying to the dear Lord above that I wouldn’t cry like a child in front of this poor man. We booked another lesson (I bet he wishes I hadn’t), wished each other a nice evening and I walked back into my house, feeling my legs about to collapse underneath me. I waved at him again as I closed the door and as soon as I felt it shut completely, I began to cry. However, the release was bloody amazing.
My next lesson is a couple of days away and I’m looking forward to it with a mixture of pure unadulterated dread and excited anticipation. It can only get better right? Right?!
Ah Monday again… why must you visit so soon?
I had a nice and varied weekend. Technically, Thursday isn’t part of said weekend but I will post about it anyways for the sake of the fact that I’m ALIVE and didn’t run over any Killers’ fans on my first driving lesson in donkies.
In fact, I wasn’t brave enought to go anywhere near a main road being that my estate is beside Marlay Park and with The Killers concert going on that night, I decided to drive around the estate instead and avoid parked cars and future customers (what my new instructor likes to call children). I was pretty wobbly on the clutch but could remember a fair bit from my lessons in 2006. However, even though I thought I was going a literally a snail’s pace, my instructor thought otherwise and consistently reminded me to press ‘the middle pedal that everybody hates’. All. the. time. He is a seriously nice guy though, and his attention to detail, whilst rather unnerving at first, is probably ultimately for the best.
Then on Saturday, I went to Lovebox. Of course, it rained ALL MORNING LONG so by the time I and some friends ventured up to the park, the ground was completely destroyed. We danced around like eejits to NERD for a bit until I fell in the mud and had to resist the tempetation to roll around. I don’t know how, but I managed to only dirty my knees and the elbow of my left jacket sleeve which was handy. Then I forgot I was wearing wellies when I got home through and trekked a muddy trail all the way up to my room, much to my mother’s delight. Man, I need to move out.
Sunday’s plan was to visit Dun Laoghaire for the Festival of World Cultures but unfortunately, a rather annoying self inflicted illness got in the way and instead I gorged on trash TV and movies. Watched Kramer vs Kramer for the first time in ages and fell even more in love with Meryl Streep. She really needs more Oscars.
My next driving lesson in tomorrow when I shall be braving the big bad main roads and this time avoiding moving cars and past customers. Eeeeeeek!
Could it possibly the most common spelling mistake ever? Despite the lovely message “loose” has turned me into a right grumpy cow.
I am listening out my bedroom window to Jack Black singing ‘f*ck her gently’ – my favourite Tenacious D song evar. They’re in Marlay Park ya see, which I live right beside ya see. *smirks unattractively*
But, it’s not all fun and games.
The traffic tonight was freaking mental. MENTAL. We had to leave the car in NuttyNutgove and walk up the estate. My friend has just texted me telling me she’s been in her car for the last 90 minutes on what should be a 25 minute journey.
So a last minute word of friendly advice to anyone going to The Killers tomorrow – leave town or wherever you are travelling from at least one hour before you had originally planned to. Seriously, the roads are jam packed with cars and buses (that you can’t get round). And if you see a really freaked out looking girl in a learner’s car please wave hello – I’m taking my first driving lesson in ages tomorrow night. Wonderful timing.