Driving ambition

Ugh.

Driving in England. I agonize over this one activity like nothing else in my life.

Here was my plan. The D.E.B. and I had planned to do our big Easter shop yesterday evening. Then, a thought flickered through my mind: it was a bright sunny day, I was feeling frisky and chirper, why not do the Sainsbury’s run by myself?

You see, The D.E.B. has been being a very good lad, and has been cycling to work, so the car (a.k.a.,"The Tank”) has been sitting on our drive, taunting me, teasing and tempting me.

What am I so afraid of? I don’t really know exactly. The stupid thing is that I actually learned to drive here in Britain. Years and years ago, while I was a graduate student the opportunity to learn to drive presented itself, and I took it. Took the test, two or three times, and eventually passed. I know how to drive, and am licensed to do so.

But that was many, many years ago, and in the interim, living in the States—my fellow Americans will have to forgive me, but I must say this—I have become a very lazy driver. Driving in America is a doddle. You could do it in your sleep, in fact, I am sure that I have driven in my sleep!

To me, it seems that driving is quite a casual affair in the States, where else in the world would one find “Drive-Thru Liquor Stores”? I remember one time, when I was in high school, some friends and I were out on the town; we went to the “Drive Thru” liquor store/off-license for some Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers (Egad, I’m showing my age here.)

And, I kid you not, as the man behind the counter, leaned out of the window to hand us our package, he said to the driver: “You want me to open those for ya?”  I wanted to shout from the back seat: “She’s driving!”

More than casualness, there is just the matter of skill sets. In many ways, at least for me, it seems that driving in Britain requires a different set of skills. And that’s what worries me. It will just take a bit of time for my brain to re-re-adjust to driving here.

I did make it to Sainsbury’s yesterday, though. And proudly did the big Easter shop all on my own. Felt very empowered and liberated. (And got a super deal on whole salmon!) My victory was bittersweet, however...a minor boo-boo that resulted in a cracked, passenger wing mirror.

Ugh.

Success!

I did it! I drove today. That’s right I got behind the wheel of “the tank” (SAAB wagon) and drove.

The D.E.B. needed to collect his camper van from the mechanic’s shop in Alveston, so we made a plan over the weekend that I would drive him there.  I had, thankfully, forgotten about this little plan, so I did not have time to fret and panic about it today before the D.E.B. arrived home from work.

My only real fear, apart from killing us, was having the D.E.B. as co-pilot on the journey to Alveston. (I have sooo many horror stories of impatient and irate relatives, parents, etc. "coaching" me while I'm behind the wheel. Curious that, people don't seem to realize the more nervous and anxious you make the person the more rattled they become.) But, of course, true to his sterling character, he was kind, patient and encouraging the entire way. 

The road to Alveston is quite serpentine, and of course everyone drives fast, fast, fast here! But, I stayed calm and just chanted my mantra: “Left, Left, Left, stay on the Left.” The only problem is, and I don’t know what it's called exactly, but I think I might be "right-left disoriented." I mean generally. In New York, when people would stop and ask me for directions, I would have to raise my hand or turn my body to physically engage my brain as to which direction I trying to utter. Not a good practice, I think, to attempt whilst driving. I will need to work on this.

Still. First things first. I did it! I drove! Fear conquered! There will be no stopping me now!