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| Harrison looking right at home behind the wheel of Grandpa’s prized possession: The Charger |
This weekend past, I made good with my 2011 motto of getting comfortable with being uncomfortable, and tackled one of my long held fears face on: driving a long distance – solo. (Unless the cranky kid in the back seat counts as a passenger. Unfortunately though he was anything but helpful).
Okay, yes I will admit it was only a two hour stretch but if you know me you are aware it’s the equivalent of driving Sydney to Melbourne non stop. Because it was enough to engulf me with night terrors in the lead up to it taking place, not to mention heart palpitations at the thought of all the things that might go wrong – because when the F3 is involved, its anyone’s guess how long a trip may take or what sort of obstacles might occur!
You see, I Do Not Like Driving. I’m a purebred passenger, happily oblivious to all that goes on about me as we get from A to B. For instance, if I had the choice between driving in the Sydney CBD, or stapling my eyes closed with an industrial sized staple gun, I am the person who’d eagerly put their hand up for the latter.
I Loathe It.
Driving is a skill that just does not come naturally, not to mention scares the bejesus outa me! I am an anxious person at the best of times; why on earth would I want to exacerbate this by putting myself behind the wheel of two tonnes of lethal metal and possibly endanger myself and my loved ones?
The most ironic things is I have held a license since I was 17 – yet there was a period between 2001 and 2007 where I barely put the pedal to the metal. After living in London for 18months, with a plethora of public transport on offer, I fell out of the driving habit. And readily replaced it with fear.
I know it was amusing, if not incredibly irritating, for those who knew me, and who were at the mercy of my constant need to be picked up and dropped off, as if I was 15 years old again! But after discovering I was pregnant, it became clear driving was going to be a necessary evil. So I made my convinced my husband to sell his beloved (manual) car in exchange for an automatic one. And thus this pedigreed passenger began to reacquaint herself with the art of driving.
I can only imagine my husband’s frustrations, both at the thought of always having to be the long suffering designated driver and then at being the poor sod who had to re-teach me to drive again! Even as a teen, it was a tough gig. My endlessly patient Dad, with scores of driving experience had to admit defeat and hand me over to a professional instructor.
He realised early on I might be tricky to train. Growing up, it was somewhat of a tradition that the grandkids would all learn to drive the tractor on Nan & Pop’s farm. Not I. A combination of me having a fear the size of Western Australia, as well as the fact my Dad had no desire to see his beloved big red tractor smashed and crashed, meant I was one of the few who never got behind its beastly wheel. It may have also had something to do with the time I almost collected the horse corral en route to our home while I was practising steering, sitting on dad’s lap as a young girl…
While I am aware I have improved 1000% on even this time last year, I am still subject to my critics. Namely Master H, who has become somewhat of a backseat driver. I’m not sure if he has picked up on my deep seated fear of being behind the wheel, or whether the fact he is more so than anyone else subjected to my driving skills, that perched up from on high in his car seat, he has begun to question me. Last week, when I was reversing out of a car space and was yet to fully correct the car and return to the right side of the road (or left, but you know what I mean…) he announced, “Mummy, you need to watch out for that car that’s coming close”. Or, when I braked a little heavily once and my bag hurtled from the front seat to floor the Ms Daisy in the back seat shouts, “Mummy, you need to be more careful”! He’s also been quick to question some of the colourful verbs that Mummy utters (obviously not so quietly) when cars pull out in front of you and then proceeds to drive 15kms under the speed limit…
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| Next challenge – Dad’s motorbike??? |
But what I have learned from this personally momentous automobile achievement this weekend is that I am actually capable of much more than I give myself credit for. And that parenting essentially makes you well prepared to be an excellent driver. They are so similar in execution – so many things to concentrate on at once, eyes constantly in roaming mode, not able to miss a single thing. So while I am not sticking my hand in the air to volunteer to do it again anytime soon, at least I’ll sleep a little easier in the lead up next time around – as long as Ms Daisy seated behind me sees fit to stop his backseat driving…
Ah so cute! Driving by myself for long distances does not bother me but add the two kids into the mix and I am more that just a bit anxious.
Good for you for overcoming your anxiety and just doing it!
Jenn
Yay I’m not alone! I’ve only been driving for four years. I really didn’t want to but I have to choice. I still don’t like it. It doesn’t help that my car is manual and has no power steering and no left mirror.
I love driving, which is good because Fussy Farm is 2 hours from civilisation. I cannot stand to be a passenger and get anxiety attacks at the thought of public transportation. But I totally agree with your point about driving being like parenting. So much to focus on to keep the ride smooth!
I don’t like driving either…but at least you drive!
I don’t even have my license. But I am going to change too and start to go driving and try and get my license by the end of the year.
I love driving. And if both kids are asleep or have a dummy, it’s kinda like “me time” with the radio on singing along.
However, long distance? Well, I had planned on driving Adel-Melb next month with the kids (2 under 2)… chickened out. I’ll wait until Oct when hubby’s coming too!!
FYBF
well done. I love to drive. by myself, long distances. but inner city driving drives me nuts. I’m also much more fearful when I have the kids in the car.