The dreaded car

I hate my car. I've hated every car I've owned. They're closed in and dangerous. My first motorized vehicle was a Harley Sportster I got when I was 17. I stayed on motorcycles and avoided the dreaded car til I was 33 when I got a Honda Civic. I got it because my job at the time required I have a car.

These days the dreaded car mostly sits. This summer it sat for a few months with the back window open. I was unaware of this. When I had reason to get in it I was met with an eco system in full bloom. There were cob webs from roof to steering wheel and my entrance covered me in the things. There was life in this car and it was flying and crawling all over the place.

I was getting in the dreaded car because I had to get it inspected which means you have to drive it. Upon arriving at the inspection house I was informed that my license had expired.

So the next day I biked down to the license renewal house and stood in line.  My turn came and I met with a nice lady who told me that I couldn't get it renewed. My first thought was that I have reached the age where you have to take a special old person's driving test. I imagined a test where I would have to slouch down in the seat to show that in the coming years I would be able to maneuver the thing while barely being able to see over the dashboard.

As it turns out it was worse. She couldn't renew it because the window for renewal had passed. I was now in the new driver category. Try to recall back to the day when you were a scrawny teenager entering the age of driving and all the excitement and trepidation that it brought. That same trepidation came to me with quite a start but with none of the excitement. The thought of failure loomed. To have to sit next to some grown up who would be barking directional orders while I nervously piloted the vehicle around a busy city was more than I could take. My brain reeled.

But I was getting ahead of myself.  First I had to pass a written test at which point I would be given a learners permit.  After that I had 6 weeks to practice driving before I could take the test. And I couldn't just go out and hone my skills on my own - no, I would not be allowed any honing without constant adult supervision. The idea of having to haul a properly licensed adult around whenever I wished to take out the dreaded car was as appalling to me as riding a fixie. I could not see how driving around with some dolt constantly reminding me of the laws of the road could be of any possible service. I don't like this driving bit when I'm alone.
 
Well, the time passed and I found that I wasn't a nervous wreck next to the driving instructor and all went as smooth as butter. I made no errors and we had a pleasant chat and a good chuckle over my predicament. Still, it was just another reason to hate the dreaded car.