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Driving Lessons
THERE YOU ARE, happily getting on with life. You’ve got the spouse, the kids, the dog and the car. Life is peachy. And then Junior turns seventeen.
Now, it seemed like a good idea at the time: teach the little darling how to drive, save yourself a bundle in driving instructor’s fees. But, the pigeons have come home to roost and, as you tie the L plates to the car, you offer up a silent prayer.
And, really, the first lesson isn’t that bad. Admittedly, you don’t actually let the little dear switch the engine on, but at least he got to sit in the driver’s seat and get a feel for the car. But next night, he’s not so easily mollified.
And this is where it gets interesting. Over the coming weeks, the poor unfortunate who is teaching Junior how to drive is gradually introduced to a whole new range of illnesses: high blood pressure, panic attacks, insomnia, nightmares and that old favourite, stress-induced incontinence. Great.
After two weeks you’re a gibbering wreck and, as Junior jets off to Ibiza with his mates for a well-earned holiday, you take refuge in a darkened room with a bottle of Scotch and some Valium. Pretty soon you’re feeling right as rain again – well, apart from the hangover. But just as you emerge from your room you find Junior standing before you, rattling the car keys. At this point religion and superstition begin vying for your attention.
Week one and a small St Christopher can be found hanging from the rear view mirror. Week two and a set of rosary beads have joined it. Week three and you’ve invested in a lovely set of Buddhist prayer beads and a Gregorian chant CD. By week four you’ve got a lucky rabbit’s foot. Well, to be honest you’ve got the whole set - not so lucky for the rabbit though…
But, as the weeks pass you begin to realise that the learning curve is not just one way. No. Junior has opened your eyes to a whole new world. For instance, as you cruise through Pitlochry at a sedate 90mph you come to realise that yes, 9 out of 10 cats really can do those stunts you’ve seen in the cartoons. And, when faced with a swift moving vehicle, the elderly are more agile than you were led to believe…
But, desperation soon sets in as the dark nights of winter loom ahead. You can cope with blind terror in daylight but in the pitch dark…that’s another matter. So, you finally arrange for Junior to have proper driving lessons with an instructor who is just mad enough to earn his living by being terrified out of his wits on an hourly basis. And, with a slight change of heart, you concede that it’s money well spent.
Several weeks later, and Junior finally sits his test. He passes. And guess who’s got to fund his first car? Right. But, just as you begin to wonder what’s in it for you, the light dawns and a smile spreads slowly across your face. At this most unnatural of sights, Junior shifts uneasily in his seat. But let’s not spoil the moment for him - you can tell him later that, from now on, he’s going to have to run you and your mates to bingo once a week, every week, for the rest of his life…
© Ruth Ainley 2007
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