Waking up realising I am almost fifteen minutes late for my second driving lesson was not exactly what I had in mind. I officially had three-quarters of an hour to explore right and left turn; as well perfect what I thought was a disastrous second-gear change from the previous session.
Still dependent on my instructor, I had a vague sense of deja vu as I am driven back to the original practice routes. At that moment, a sense of dread struck me as I imagined these routes becoming my permanent residence.
However, second gear seemed to come more naturally then expected. I start changing my gears before receiving an instruction, probably because I had been doing the same exercises for two lessons. As I attack the poor bruised clutch, I started to hear less ‘one pound coin at a time’ from the instructor, clearly a good sign.
I even tried my hand at steering, although only in one direction, mainly left. I felt deprived as I may eventually want to turn right in the future. However the major problem was that I still steered like a Formula One driver. Thankfully the instructor had control of the pedals as I became a menace on Furzedown Road.
I established today that I sadly may not be a natural-born driver as I originally had imagined. Yet there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, as the instructor keeps reassuring me. It could be better next time.
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