After a three month sabbatical, I have decided that it is time that I remount my trusty steed and start driving once more. While I understand that, after my abject failure at my last test would indicate that the wisest course of action would have been to continue my classes on schedule. Regular practice is the means by which people obtain their driver’s licences.
However I was in no mood to proceed at the time. It was November – my least favourite time of year when I just feel miserable for no reason other than the time of year.
It was approaching Christmas, therefore my calendar was rather full.
Lastly – but most importantly – I felt utterly disillusioned. Not because I’d failed my test, but because I had felt so thoroughly ripped off by the Airport School of Driving – read my tragic account of said rip-off merchants HERE.
Having had such a negative experience with such an exploitative school I was worn out. So I took a break.
I had however immediately rebooked another test. Yesterday I received an email advising that my new test date is March 8th. Well that simply won’t do at all. I’ll need longer than four weeks to master this skill. I am a slow learner when it comes to the art of driving. The fact that my internal monologue is screaming ‘Oh my God, we’re all going to DIE’ whenever the red light turns green, may indicate that my path to driving confidence may be a long and winding road.
So I emailed and postponed. I expect a new date in July. Surely that gives me sufficient time to absorb enough motoring skills.
If my excursion through the Phoenix Park last Sunday is anything to go by, I am not after all in such bad shape. My sainted friend drove us to the park – my nerves were unsettling me – it had been so long since I’d driven I was grateful.
I was wracked with both hesitation and discomfort. After about half an hour I was more relaxed.
I now need to book a new official instructor – someone who will teach me a foolproof way to reverse around a corner, without demanding I place my left kidney on the open market in order to pay for the pleasure – the manner in which Attila and the Airport Driving School demanded.
Wish me luck. I’m on the road again.