Switched Instructors

Okay, I was slightly offended when my driving instructor asked me ‘would you like to drive with my friend instead, who is much better then me I add?’

My instructor’s excuse was that he did not have enough time for all his pupils, but I knew I started to make him perspire cold sweats every time I let go of the steering wheel and started screaming ‘take over!.’ In addition to his complaints, I also started to feel frustrated that he would stop the car to chat to his mates.

So this was it. A new instructor: may be a better chance of passing I secretly hoped. Prior to meeting him, I was given a rundown by my ex-instructor that this guy had 92% pass rate. Now I am no genius, but apparently that is good news for me. Then there was some bad news. He only does ‘intense’ sessions, so these include three hour lessons in one go. Once again the nauseating feeling came back.

A car approached my front door at nine in the evening. I realised this was going to be a long night. There was a mini introduction, and then there was my rusty driving. I looked sheepishly as I stalled, not too many times thankfully, but the reply was decent- I think. ‘Wow, you are not as bad as your previous Instructor said.’

I am not sure if that was supposed to be a confidence booster, praise, or something else, but I was happy with the first lesson. Returning home worryingly at eleven, I realised I could not escape driving now. I had to be a part of the 92% pass rate and he was going to make sure of that.