Rites Of Passage.
It is that time of yearly visits from family. They visit you as regularly as Santa Claus. You know the ones I mean, the cousins, nephews and nieces and in this case my Great Nephew.
OH, doesn’t a Great Aunt sound grand and incredibly ancient. Thank Goodness he calls me Auntie and does not put the prefix in front.
And yes, I had taken the easy route for a Christmas present and given him cash. What else can you give to a confident young man?
“Thanks Auntie Gyps” he said as he fingered the bank notes and his eyes took on that glow of expectation.
“This will go towards my driving lesson”
My, my, that great rite of passage into adulthood and grasping the steering wheel of life.
My mind wandered back in time, well you are allowed to remember when you are a Great Aunt.
My arrogance, the early 70’s clothes, big hair, wide trousers and the promise of a driving licence to set you free from all that parental chaperoning.(nothing changed there then except the 70’s clothes etc.)
My Father had already taken me out in the car to windswept deserted airfields, lonely farm roads in a vain attempt to teach me but such close bonds make both poor teacher and pupil in something so treacherous. (Also a way to save money. I think as it was a fiver a throw for a lesson…. hate to think how much it is these days?)
In desperation in the end he slipped me the cash.
There you sit on your first driving lesson with all that confidence of youth and self-belief.
“Let’s start” Mr Driving Instructor announced puffing easily on a king sized cigarette. (Can you believe that they used to smoke while teaching you in those days?)
I didn’t need to be told twice or how: key in ignition, foot down on the clutch check mirror for traffic behind and a quick glance at your eye make-up.
“Take your foot off the clutch” Mr Driving Instructor screamed.
“Why?” I replied firmly fluttering my heavily mascaraed eyes.
“Take your foot off the ******* clutch” he yelled.
“But I haven’t switched on the engine yet” I replied pouting, knowing I was right as only the young can do.
“Take your ***** foot off the **** clutch” Tears of pain rolling down his cheeks.
Looking down into the ash covered foot well on his side, there was his foot clad in grubby canvas shoe wedged securely under the clutch pedal of the dual controls that I had pressed more than firmly and enthusiastically my side. (Do they still have dual controls……? I surely hope they do!)
As I released the clutch slowly the car filled with smoke as he started to light another cigarette and inhale great gulps of smoke nervously.
I turned my attention back to my “great” ( he is such a lovely young man) nephew and smiled….
“Good Luck”
I am sure we all have “tales” of learning to drive. Would love to hear them….and by the way….
Safe Journeys.
The dual controls didn’t keep him from harm in this case………..but was there really a need for all that Fuffawacking……….xx
I failed my first driving test (but then all the best do, Jackie Stewart, Jim Clark), but I swear it was out of revenge from the examiner.
It was the emergency stop that did it. I was driving my Dad’s Ford Popular. 2 doors, tip up seats, no seatbelts.
I assume all the UK drivers hear know the procedure. “i will slap my hand on the dash and I want you to stop as quickly…..etc etc”.
On the drive I was carefully watching the rear view mirror when I noticed the examiner checking behind too, so when he slapped his hand down, there was no thinking time, just action. The car stopped quickly and under control.
Unfortunately the examiner didn’t. He hadn’t got his hand braced on the dash, so when the seat tipped, he went with it, nose first right into the windscreen.
I still maintain that if he’s been ready in time then I’d have passed first time.
Well Way…..one with a broken nose,another with an injured foot…… were we really that dangerous?lol.
Dual controls it was for me when I took lessons eons ago. And thank God!
But not an instructor filling the car with carcinogens at least. Something he told me always stayed with me..”always announce your intentions”. The indicator needed to go on when turning. Good advice.
Too bad it didn’t apply to relationships. Imagine if people would always announce their intentions instead of playing all sorts of games and intrigues.
Didn’t have any driving lessons , just watched my hubby drive , took the car out one day and drove it … went for my licence , and all the policeman did was take me up a hill stop and start, without rolling back, took me back to the police station and wrote out my firs tlicence as they did in Australia at that time, it came in the post a week later… Mind you I was a nice looking blond young woman in those days, bit different now ha ha ha ….
Me niether Lani…I grew up on a farm so was driving soon as me feet could reach the pedals.
Took an 8 ton load of wheat to the silos in the small town we lived near…decided to go to the cop shop for a licence…he was just going down to the pub for a cooling ale,so I accompanied him and bought a round..when we got back he wrote out the licence.
That was back in the 50s of course 🙂 and you know what?,in the 58 years since,Iv never got so much as a parkin ticket….Just lucky I guess…lol.
Hello Gysps,
I bet you it was the other way round; first the check mirror for a glance at your eye make-up, the rest followed?
Women are I’m convinced to believe in that are a nature,s wonder. First to sit correctly, watch if the stockings do not shrink, than to fumble for the pedals, final view into the mirror as mentioned before and their it is; the driving licence.
Oh my God if nearly forgotten to mention the lovely smiles for the teacher if anything unexpected happens.
These feminine merits alone costs us men at least 10hrs more extra training.
I know I may get praised or hammered for it but it is the truth. Men take far more driving lessons that women but they don’t drive better and safer.xxxM
Thanks all for your comments………perhaps I better wait awhile before I describe the actual Test.lol
And of course, we ladies are a natures wonder………with or without a driving licence.