Dreadful Nonsense

This might come as a shock announcement for some of you, and be seen as quite a rash decision by others, and possibly even some of the more weak livered of you might faint on the spot at the very idea of this, but I'm going to go ahead and tell you anyway: I'm learning to drive.

I came to this decision not through choice but through a complicated sequence of events. More and more since moving back to Dublin it's been impressed upon me how important it is to carry round proof of your identity. For little things, like buying a mobile phone. For bigger things, like every time you're stopped by the police and/or arrested. And carrying around your passport is a risky business these days, not merely because my photograph isn't the most flattering and I don't like to flash it about all too often. So, I thought to myself, what I'll do is get a driving licence. They're cheap, they're easy, they're durable, it'll be a doddle.

I'm 27. I've never had a driving licence in my life. This is really over 10 years late in arriving, when I think about it. I've been very relaxed about it up until now. But I thought, heck with it, I can't pretend to be a student any more, so I might as well pretend to be an adult.

I mentioned in passing a few months ago to Mrs. D (who, incidentally, doesn't seem as interested in her husband as she once was. Expect a name change soon, Mrs D fans) that I was considering getting a licence, and she of course pointed out to me about these pesky road rules and the fact that we now have to take a written exam on them before being issued with a provisional licence. I ventured the guess that I'd probably breeze through this exam, and she ventured the same thing, and we then sealed in blood a bet of a full THIRTY EURO that must be handed over to the poor simpleton who doesn't manage to pass the full driving test. Oh, okay, not in blood.

I then went ahead with the theory test, which I naturally passed without a bother in the world. No bother at all. Just passed it there and then and went on my merry way. Really, it was that easy. Mrs. D, on the other hand, seems to have hit some kind of stumbling block in terms of her driving abilities, in that she DIDN'T pass the test. And therefore doesn't even have a provisional licence yet. The fool. The non-driving fool.

But then once that had been done, I'd sent off all the forms, certificates, proof of ID and required cheque, it all got a bit out of hand. Yes, I had a lovely bit of paper with a quite-dodgy-but-not-as-bad-as-my-passport photo of me. But then my mother had to go take it a step too far - she's started to teach me to drive.

So far we've been out on three "lessons". These "lessons" consist of driving, on the way back from the gym, to the big carpark in the race course. There we swap seats, she talks me through mirror, clutch, ignition, clutch, first gear, hand break off, clutch, accelorator, car stalls, hand break on, neutral gear, ignition, clutch, first gear, hand break off, accelorate far too fast and go jumping off down the road. Once I can get the car to start at all, you see, then we're off on a winner. I'm good with the speeding up, the going from first to second gear, the turning around (lesson one - "never take your hands off the steering wheel!" - was screamed quite loudly and shrilly at me), and the coming to a complete stop without stalling the engine. It's all, Susan confidently assured me last night, about the clutch control. I'm going to remember that and pass it on to Mrs D tonight. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear.

This entry was posted on 02 June 2004 at 3:35 pm. 0 comments

Dreadful Nonsense

0 Comments:

Recommended Reading

Archives