Driving - Not All Men Were Born Equal

Since the advent of the wheel, man has been fascinated with cars... probably.

I’ll admit I’m not a car person. Oh sure, I have one but the only thing I can tell you about it is that it’s silver with a peppering of bird shit and mainly houses a weird smell and multiple discarded fast food wrappers and it, err, gets me from A to B, yes.

I’m not a very good driver myself, I was on-off with lessons for many years, due mainly to being a poory poorerson and the fact I hate being told what to do, instructor or otherwise. I didn’t even take my test until the tender age of COUGH*24*COUGH.  My father on the other hand IS a driver, he was a taxi driver; delivery driver, truck driver, forklift driver, screwdriver… Okay, not the last one but he drove loads, he passed his test second time round. As a man who has driven since the age of 17 you’d think his only offspring* would have been a natural, surely.

My mother god love her failed 4 times before passing in her 30’s… That’s the gene I inherited, oh and her boobs, real men have boobs okay.

Me, I passed first time baby, first time - every time. *wink*

It’s true what they say; first time passers ARE the worst drivers! A mere month into my life as a driver I inadvertently drove the wrong way down a one way street, the only other car coming, a police car, naturally. They let me off because I seemed like a nice lad, but mainly because I’m not black or driving some car I’d made my new art project.

I’ve never understood the world of car modding or ‘pimping out your ride’, naming it ‘Sheila’ and getting your windows blacked out and the like. I’d only like them myself to hide my wretched face after I cut someone up in traffic.

There’s a trend for ‘boy racers’ to sit in little car gangs in supermarket and fast food restaurant’s car parks revving their engines which is both silly and no doubt incredibly boring but whatever floats your pimped out boat.

The only thing remotely car-esque I ever got into was the 2011 film ‘Drive’ and that was mainly because I want to be Ryan Gosling** so much so that I bought a bomber jacket and some leather gloves but I looked less anti-hero and more cat burglar (which by the way isn’t at all what it sounds like which is a real shame because I love cats!)

 

The opposite of what I look like.

 

So the ultimate message in all of this is I’m weird and a bit of rubbish driver. I’ll leave you with something my mam said that freaked me out when I asked her why she didn’t like driving, she hauntingly replied “Because you’re in control of this big hunk of metal that could ruin someone’s life in an instant.”

- Cheery stuff, happy motoring.

 

 

*Probably.

**I’m not gay but he’s dreamy.