The joys of… driving!

I am not a very good driver. This isn’t me being modest or coy, it’s just the truth. It took me significantly longer than anyone else in my sixth form to get my licence, and I suspect this might have been due to my habit of crying so intensely anytime I got overwhelmed in a driving lesson that my instructor had to take over while I blubbered in the passenger seat. I remember the look of shock on his face when I actually passed my test. Nobody, least of all me, thought I could do it. He stood there for about thirty seconds dumbstruck until he remembered the need for professionalism.

Sometimes I stay up at night wondering whether my inability to parallel park makes me a bad feminist (I fear it might…)

This is supposed to be an advice column but in all honesty I’m not sure if I’m qualified to give driving advice. My poor driving skills are kind of a joke in my family, and sometimes I stay up at night wondering whether my inability to parallel park makes me a bad feminist (I fear it might…)

I spent the first week complaining, stressing, and doing all I could to avoid getting back into a vehicle

However, despite all this, I love driving. I don’t drive at all during term time because there’s no need, but as soon as summer hits, my dad forces me back into a car so I don’t completely forget. This year, to be honest, I made a lot of fuss – I spent the first week complaining, stressing, and doing all I could to avoid getting back into a vehicle. Unfortunately for me, I’ve got a job forty minutes away so unless I wanted to commit to a commute of a three day hike across the Lincolnshire woods, I kind of had to get back in the car.

Driving is scary but equally it makes me feel like a grown up

So I did and I learnt, like I always do, that it wasn’t that bad, and I need to stop overthinking every tiny little thing I do. Driving is scary but equally it makes me feel like a grown up. Not the grown up of reality which is full of ennui and endless amounts of laundry, but the exciting, lipstick wearing, bedtime choosing adult you imagine yourself to become when you’re small.

Lincolnshire is a boring place to live, and basically the only thing to commend it is the miles of sky that stretches on and on in every direction. This may be beautiful, but it means next to nothing when you’re a grumpy teenager who lives an hour from any of her friends. Although, when you drive, you really do get the appeal – the world just feels so big. The roads stretch on straight for what feels like forever, and you’re surrounded by countryside that still feels quaint but at sixty miles an hour takes your breath away.

There’s an excitement in my chest that grows just knowing that soon I can be back in my car, and back on the road again

When I drive I feel almost fearless, normally only for a second until I go round a corner too fast and spend the rest of the journey with my foot shaking and hovering over the brakes – but that second feels magical. I spend my shift glancing up at the clock, counting the minutes, not just because I want to go home and return to my bed, but because there’s an excitement in my chest that grows just knowing that soon I can be back in my car, and back on the road again.