Driving III

After escaping from my abduction by the aliens, I went to my 2nd driving lesson. Having ditched my last miserable instructor who talked waaaay too much for my liking, I found that driving wasn't so bad after all. Maybe it wasn't the fact that I hated driving. Maybe I just hated the people I was driving with. Let's see... I've driven with Mum a couple of times, less than 10. The rest with Dad. And by now I'm sure you all know how I feel about Dad. If it weren't for the inseverable family ties between us, I would've committed quite a few violent crimes by now. Then I drove once with my last instructor who talked too much.

"Why isn't there a STFU button in this car?"

Now, the new instructor. He is the ideal driving instructor. I say this with confidence and without any bias- and I am confident that I am unbiased because he wasn't even that good-looking. Not that I'm calling him ugly, I'm just saying that he's not good-looking enough to influence my judgment. I'd also add in that he's like 50 or 60, except age obviously isn't something which stops me from finding a man attractive. Oh well. But you should get the point. Average looking bloke who happens to be the ideal driving instructor.


Why do I say that? Because he didn't talk too much. Not that we were silent the entire lesson, but at least we made casual conversation. In fact he talked non-stop... I wonder why I didn't feel that he had talked to much. OH THAT'S RIGHT, BECAUSE HE DIDN'T PARK THE CAR ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND TALK FOR 30MIN LIKE MY LAST INSTRUCTOR DID. He laughed and said that I was getting ripped off. Well I blame Dad for finding a lousy instructor. This instructor, I found myself. Another example of how if you want something done properly and done well, you should just fucking do it yourself.

My hand now smell of soap from holding the driving wheel. Reminds me of how the car smelt... surprisingly pleasant. And it also serves to remind me of how the last instructor's car smelt of sweat, old man and whatever the fuck else there were. Yes, this instructor is infinitely better. What makes him far better than the last? The last instructor had told me to stop driving to school, because it was too hard blah blah blah. This instructor told me that driving practise was good, and he approved of me driving. The best part? He told Dad to stop yelling at me on the way to school.


"If traffic is held up, THEN LET TRAFFIC BE HELD UP," he said to Dad. "Don't rush the kid. Hesitation is good."

Aw man, FINALLY, someone with enough sense to tell Dad off. Then I told Mum that the lesson was really good and the instructor was really good, and Dad was all "whatever" and went back to his computer. *Victory*

As a result, I am now more happy than I should be on this dull, overcast Saturday afternoon.