“Whoops, there she goes!”

 

Every sixteen year old is excited to get their driver’s license. I, on the other hand, was not so happy. Let’s take a trip down memory lane to the first time I drove a car.

At seventeen, I am just starting to drive and I am completely unaware of my lazy eye. The driving instructor tells me to turn right. However, there is traffic and about twenty different cars in my way, so I turn left instead; right into a snowbank.

Given the snow on the hood and the windshield, I make a pretty rough stop. The instructor then swears at me, having the nerve to get out of the car to make sure that it is not scratched… I am sure I did not just scratch the car. Next, the instructor tells me to drive home. Here, I think: there is more than one way to get to my house from the school parking lot. 

So you’d think that driving into a snowbank would be enough for the instructor to tell me that he would not teach me to drive anymore. Well, this was not the case. 

A year later I am eighteen and on my second driving trial. This trial is different. It’s the fall and I’m actually driving well, until I see a ditch in front of the car. While my instructor tells me to drive straight through the ditch, I am thinking of the best way to avoid a fatal accident and/or death. Instead of driving straight through, as my instructor instructed, I reverse the car enough to step on the gas pedal and hop the car over the ditch. Now I think, I probably would have gotten yelled at had I not just saved both of our lives.

I didn’t drive for 2 years after that. Debating on whether I wanted to or not, I decided to give driving another try. 

This time I am able to parallel park perfectly. That is, until I drive into the instructor’s parking space. He tells me to keep driving. Being satisfied with my driving, the instructor compliments me. Next, I successfully drive through a traffic light. Then, the instructor tells me to drive through a route with seven traffic lights. However, I drive in the opposite direction because it is safer and leads to the same place: my house. I pull into my driveway smoothly and thank the instructor for all of his help. He asks to see my mom to tell her what I supposed would be great news. To this, my mom comes outside smiling, both her and I thinking that I had done a great job; the instructor tells her I “shouldn’t drive anymore”.

I think it is safe to say that I will not be driving for a long time.