At some point, I will have have to talk about Recent Possessions Acquired. People like to talk about New Toys, or New Food at New Restaurants or New Clothes – I guess, with nothing much more to life than work and spending the money made from work, Buying New Things becomes a Big Deal.
About a month back, we got a Suzuki Swift Sport (which I think qualifies in the New Toy department) in a darker shade of blue and I suspect, an earlier model too (all small cars look alike to me). We call her Patsy (since the van is called Patrick). I scratched Patsy within the first week of trying to get acquainted with driving again. I have forgotten how to park and I don’t think I have any natural aptitude in that area too. But once I get that down right, I will attempt to be Independent Cruiser.
Patsy is supposed to help me get over this fear I’ve had of driving since that time way back in 1999 when I first drove out of Ubi Driving School and met LORRIES, and TRUCKS and BOORISH CABS that were generally rude and territorial. Coupled with seedy, creaky moustached 50-something driving instructors with permed hair, I generally HATED driving. I kind of gave up, until I took it up again in Melbourne which was absolutely a breeze with empty, wide suburb roads and basically an infinite amount of space and time given to park, since well, no one was around.
I am ok with: relatively empty highways, country roads and totally empty carparks
I am not ok with: practically anywhere else which is meant to be a city where it is crowded with LORRIES, TRUCKS and BOORISH CABS and SNEAKY MOTORBIKES and CROWDED CARPARKS.
But this is where Patsy comes in – she is small to make parking a little easier but not small enough to be bullied (apparently ). She is Auto which means Any Idiot (including me, apparently) Can Drive This.
At this point come the lame excuses why I have so many issues about driving. Firstly, I got into two pretty bad car accidents when I was younger (a fractured collarbone and a badly-sprained wrist respectively), both time sitting in friends’ mums’ cars. My psycho motor skills are genetically predisposed to be lacking and I have difficulties telling left from right and what the concept of straight is. My sister cannot park like me too and my mum has never parked straight in her life and has also knocked an old man down before (but he just got a bruise fortunately). So really I am a psychologically-damaged dyslexic when it comes to driving.
However, I will never forget a Portuguese bongo player I met who “read my stars” using a sophisticated astrology programme from his laptop and duly informed me that I would be ABSOLUTELY MISERABLE if I do not have a car to “explore the ends of the world”.
So Patsy (and reluctant, blood-pressure-ever-rising Instructor D.), do bear with me.