Day 39. Failure.

My parents came up for a visit this past weekend and my mom reminded me of a story I blocked for good reason. So, instead of moving on to Fishtastrophe Part 2 I'll tell you this one. 

The only time I was behind the wheel of a car, prior to student driving, was once with my dad. I sat on his lap in a 1970 tank of a Volvo and he let me skid and veer all over a dirt road. If I was going to hit anything it would have been a tree or a cactus. Not anything that would maim either one of us unless it came through the windshield. For the life of me I couldn't keep that wheel straight. I whipped the wheel right. I whipped it left. "Small movements! Small movements!" he screamed, but I was having too much fun, laughing a maniacal giggle.

When it was time for me to learn to drive for real, my mom did what any sane mom would do. She signed me up for driving lessons with an instructor. No immediate family would be present. Just an old man with a jerry rigged car that had a brake on both the drivers and passengers (are those supposed to have apostrophes?) side of the car. Huh. Who knew they could make something like that? 

The first couple times out went off without a hitch. I think. I don't really remember those times in comparison to the one time....

I was working at a tax place as a receptionist and was headed there with my instructor after our lesson. I guess I got a little confused between the gas pedal and brake pedal because when I pulled into the parking spot in front of the place I gunned it. The car lurched forward in a great spurt of energy and then smashed right into a Coke machine. Yeah, I shattered it good. Didn't do much damage to the car, but that's probably because someone in the passenger seat hit the correct pedal. 

Somehow that guy was willing to continue teaching me how to drive. He must have dealt with far worse drivers if I couldn't even scare him off with a direct vending machine hit. 

I failed my first driving test. It was either the driving or the written part or both, but I failed. Talk about embarrassing.

My second try was even worse. I passed the written part and nearly all the driving. Then we pulled into the police parking lot, where the parallel parking poles dared me to try to squeeze between them. I pulled up, put the car in reverse, started backing up and thought, "oh yeah, I got this in the bag!" But I forgot to also look in front of me to see where the ... KKKKKRRRRRUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHH

I basically skewered the car with the front parallel parking pole, causing $800 in damage. I was still driving my instructor's car, too. I felt awful, but he still didn't dump me. Must have been the maximum insurance coverage he had. I can think of no other reason than he probably found it entertaining on some level.

I was really feeling like shit then. I figured my parents were going to have to drive me around for the rest of my life. How awkward would that be?

Just so happened that third time was a charm. My pits were like geysers, I was flushed and shaking, but I passed both the written and driving tests. Yeah, me! Finally. It only took my instructor's sanity, more than $1000 in damages, several months, and my utter humiliation to reach my goal. But at least my parents never had to be behind the wheel with me. Even today, my mom holds onto the oh shit bar like she'd fall thousands of feet without it. Mom has always known best.