Clutch, brake, accelerator, roadkill

I had my first driving lesson on Friday. Wow. What an experience. Now you know me, I'm not one to big myself up or overexaggerate my many good points. That's just not me, I'm more of the humble stock. Like Jesus. Yes, I guess you could say that I'm quite a lot like Jesus. Except without the whole 'nailed to a bit of wood like a fish' thing. That I can do without. That said... I'm so shiznitching good at driving. I totally rule the mofoing road, with my skillz at indicating and, like, not stalling. Yes, you heard me, an entire two hours long driving lesson COMPLETED without stalling the car ONCE. That's pretty good. I bet that most of the learner drivers can't even get INTO the car without crashing into a lamppost, knocking themselves out and ending up comatose in the middle of the road. But not me. I was cruisin' down that avenue in my nice yellow car, waving at passers by, carefully avoiding crashing into the kerb, being respectful to the other road users and generally being THE PIMP DADDY.

I mean, I was a little nervous when I saw the driving instructor for the first time. Not due to any weakness on my behalf, but the fact that the instructor was a WOMAN. A woman - like a man but with extra woe. So I was fully expecting a lesson full of checking my makeup in the mirror, driving about with the handbrake on, stopping every twenty minutes to ask directions, and random (sticky) outbursts of hormonal behaviour. Thankfully, this woman was fairly manly in her teaching approach, keeping her female ways to herself until I was out of the car, when she probably burst into tears for no reason whatsoever then knitted a baby-gro.

So after going through the 'give me the cheque' lesson, the cockpit check (making sure the door is shut properly, seat adjustment, mirror adjustments, locations of hidden missile firing unit and ejector seat, battering ram adjustment, seatbelt) the points systems of driving (normal pedestrians 10 pts, old people, children, dogs and prams 20 pts a piece, wheelchair users 50 pts, lamp-posts and kerbs -10 pts, immobile objects -40 pts, with additional points being given on a sliding scale of property to car damage scale), how to turn the wheel correctly (apparently there's a system, which I naturally mastered immediately), what the various pedals do, and how to get the best reception of driving music on the radio, we HIT THE ROAD.

I pulled away from the pavement FLAWLESSLY. No kidding, it was like me and that pavement were born to be apart. I indicated like a pro. Then I hit the gas and accelerated rapidly.

That was when the trouble began.

Zooming up the road at a blistering speed of about 8mph, I was chased down by some other woman in a car behind me who apparently was displeased at having to go so bloody slow. She was truly throwing off my concentratoin, so I tested out the the car's rear-mounted stinger missile launcher and blew apart her car, before skillfully switching gear into reverse and running over her badly burnt body with the spiked wheels of my YELLOW MG ROVER. Then a bunch of ninjas leapt at me from the pavement so I switched into 1st again and managed to cross a junction. The ninjas, following me, were all hit by various cars and fell into comas. At this point the police, sirens screaming, tore round the corner, firing madly at me. 'OMG OMG!" screamed the female instructor, crying into her hands. "Don't worry baby" I replied, and put on some manly driving sunglasses. I hit the pedals, going all the way into SECOND GEAR. Tearing down the street, with the police in full persuit, I suddenly saw my next obstacle: A SPEED BUMP. "Oh shiiiiiiiit" I said in slow motion, then cunningly shifted my feet off the accelerator just as I approached the bump to sail over it brilliantly. The policeman, not seeing my perfect driving, hit the bump and was thrown 60 feet into the air. I instantaneously hit the 'mortar' button on the dashboard and blew him into SMITHEREENS, then zoomed off at a face-melting 20mph, before pulling to a stop with a bit of a bump. Memo to self: work on braking.

The Instructress was highly impressed at my skillz* and told me that I'd pass my driving lesson first time and that I would soon be The Best Driver In The World Ever. I'm not exaggerating, that's what she said. I was like 'Well, all four of my grandparents were spies for the government who spent their early years as Hollywood stunt drivers' and she was like 'Well that explains it... you're my hero' and I was like 'Wel thanks baby-pie, you're not the first person to say that' then she fainted in her female way, so I was forced to drive all the way home, occasionally having high speed races with truck drivers who objected to me repeatedly ramming them for being in my way.

Man I can't wait until I pass my driving lesson. There'll be so much stuff I can DO. Here's just a small selection of possible activities:

• Get to places that woulda taken ages to walk really quickly. Try as I might, I can't get that sentence to sound right. Oh well.


• Park badly to annoy people in wheelchairs.


• Drive about with the roof down, playing Simon and Garfunkel to the masses from my massive 8980GHZ-bass subwoofers welded to the boot.


• Lose my girlfriend in a tragic drag-racing competition. Then drive all the way up to Heaven to drag race-Jesus to get her back.


• Follow joggers along the street, honking my horn and yelling 'Run faster you brigand!' or 'Come on, I want to FEEL THE PAIN!'


• Pull into the drive thru** at McDonalds, and then when they ask me what I want to eat, make them tell me the whole menu, then ask if they have any nice stew, and then say 'no thanks I'll just make some guacamole at home' then DRIVE OFF CACKLING MADLY.


• Drive around tooting my horn at attractive postboxes.


• Pimp my ride by adding, like, pictures of Ant-Man to the side or, like, 'VOTE PEDRO' as the license plate. OOOH, or REALLY BIG WHEELS. WITH SMILEY FACE HUBS. That'd be sweeeeeeeeeeeet.


• Make a nuisance of myself.


• Never walk again.


• Buy a novelty horn that plays the solo from 'Sweet Child Of Mine".


• Perform drive-bys against rival gang-leaders... I'll fill their pesky bodies with lead for messing with my jazz. That'll show em.


• Buy some driving gloves and a nice leather hat.


• Grow a driving mustache.


• Perform drive-buys against rival gang leaders... I'll drive past and buy things off them, then pay in CHANGE.


• Burn my bicycle.


• Turn up the parties in my car, then roll down the window and say "Hey, ladies, check out my steez pimpmobile" to whoever happens to be outside the house.


• Offer people lifts home from parties then drive off at 12.20 without them, leaving them stranded in some godawful shithole in the middle of Egham with no real way of getting home, meaning that they're forced to phone their parents and
  wait on the freezing street corner for 20 fucking minutes... except that would be a really shitty thing to do, wouldn't it OLIVER? Sod.

Of course, in order to pull off all these objectives, I'll need a really pimpin' ride. I don't think that a Ford MG Rover really cuts the mustard, to be honest. I've drawn up a rough blueprint of what I'll be expecting. Now, be aware, this is only a rough picture, but I think that it gets the message across quite well:



Look at that, man, that's just so FIIIIIIIIINE. Even the dog is impressed. Of course, the horse would have lots of hidden features, like a sprinkler system and, uh, the ability to fly. And seatbelts. No point in compromising on the safety.

VROOOOOOM!

*I wonder if I've ever actually typed skillz without the z on the end. This might become a permanent feature of my english usage, like my sarcastic american pronounciation of 'tomato' has actually become my natural way of saying it. Damn you, George Bush. You hate pronounciation. And black people. Big up Kanye West.
**Through. THROUGH. HOW HARD IS IT?