Daily #70: Vroom vroom

Today I’m going to talk about how much I hate driving.

A lot, is the answer.

I learned to drive when I was 18. In the UK, you can officially get your licence at 17, and you can drive prior to that for the purposes of learning how to. At 17, I had no interest in driving at all. For some reason though, I had a bit of an epiphany before I turned 18 – so my grandparents bestowed upon me some driving lessons as a birthday gift.

I’m quite a stressy person. So behind the wheel of a car, I started off as a nervous wreck. Dual carriageways scared me, to the point that my instructor wouldn’t let me use his car for my first test. Despite this, I feel that I’m a pretty good driver. I did fail that first test, but I maintain that that failure was due to circumstances out of my control, and if the same situation occurred now – after driving for three years – I would do the same thing as I did then.

On my second try, I did pass my test. It was quite a triumph for me as I’d finished school, and I didn’t have an awful lot going for me at that point. A few months after passing, I acquired my first car – a Skoda Citigo – and I was able to use the road as an independent driver. So of course, the first thing I did was go to Dominos pizza for some food. When I got there, I realised that I’d only learned how to bay park backwards, and completely missed the space. I had to sheepishly ask the staff member at the counter to help me back out of the space without scratching the adjacent car, which he thankfully was happy to do. I returned home with my pizza, triumphant.

My first job was at a service station, meaning I had to drive on the motorway every single day. Considering the fact that one is not allowed to use the motorway as a learner driver at all, this was nerve-racking to say the least. But now, I much prefer the simplicity of motorway driving over city driving.

Despite hating it, I appreciate how I’m able to get around and do my own thing. I’d hate needing to be dependent on my partner for transport even more. When I’m in the car on my own (which is most of the time, as I will always let my partner drive if we’re going somewhere together), I’m fairly calm – of course, I’ll swear in the safety of my little metal box if someone does something stupid, but most of the time I’m pretty collected. However, for some reason, if anybody else is in the car with me, including my partner, I get very stressed, rant and complain a lot, and drive worse.

To other people, I come across as a very nervous driver. While I’m not the most comfortable driver, alone I rarely have any problems. I like to vocalise when I’m with other people, which makes them think I constantly rant while I’m in the car.

Due to my partner getting a Tesla soon, I’ll probably be doing even less driving than I do now! Apparently, I’ll also be insured on it – but I don’t intend to actually drive it. I couldn’t take the pressure.

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