Mayhem At The Roundabout

So continues the saga of why I am not in a hurry for my daughter to learn how to drive. If you read yesterday's blog, you'll understand why I did not look favourably upon my bullying driving instructor. Determined they could do better, two of my friends decided that they would take upon themselves, the task of teaching me how to drive.

I should mention that these friends were in the Royal Engineers, and part of their job was to drive the huge army transport lorries (trucks) around England's winding country lanes. I guess when you are behind the wheel of something that size, you just have a different perspective of the road.  But I was in a small car, not a three ton truck, so many a time I found myself getting close up and personal with a hedgerow, because even I didn't dare to play chicken with the double-decker bus barreling towards me on lane ways that were little wider than a goat path.

Take the English roundabouts for example, normally you need nerves of steel to navigate those circular merry-go-rounds of terror, but not the way I was educated. Apparently there was only one way to successfully maneuver those road blocks, and that was head on. I was instructed to race up to the roundabout with reckless abandon, and if the way was clear, rocket off around it. If not, then you slammed on the brakes and hoped for the best. What can I say ? At seventeen you think you are invincible. To be fair, these somewhat unorthodox driving lessons (and I can honestly say all parties were sober, we were crazy not stupid) did take place in the wee hours of the morning, when the roads were pretty much empty. Even so, it took a couple of near misses, the second of which was with a police car giving chase (I think army sappers and the police were taught to drive in pretty much the same manner), that gave me pause for thought, and I wisely decided to move indefinitely to the passenger seat instead.

It was only with the imminent arrival of Sid that I was forced to move from passenger to driver. Rob had a recurring nightmare of driving endlessly around town dropping off three children to multiple activities, while I stayed home and did, well whatever.  So although wiser now, and obviously far safer behind the wheel, I haven't forgotten what it was like to be seventeen and fearless, and that alone is a good enough reason for me to want to keep Lindsay off the roads.