Back in the saddle

The last time I had an official driving lesson was on October 4th. After that, more than a month passed before we finally bought a car that I thought I might be able to drive (the TARDIS). Well, almost two more months passed before I found the courage to try driving the thing. And guess what: I've completely regressed. Scott took me driving in the cemetery behind our house and the experience was uncomfortably similar to my very first attempt.

I know, I know, I assured you all that I would give you ample notice before I hit the road again, but I really didn't think there was much chance of running into you (figuratively speaking, of course) in my local cemetery. Anyhow, let's just say that our graveyard outing left Scott very, very tense and left me wondering if those official lessons with Lino were just a figment of my imagination.

As discouraging as that experience was, I knew that I had to get right back up on the horse. So I did (two weeks later). Today, ladies and gentlemen, I drove to the grocery store with Scott. I didn't drive home from the grocery store, since I didn't think that our nerves could handle it, but at least I drove one way.

The more I drive, the more I learn about myself as a driver. For instance, I've learned that trying to contort myself in order to check the huge blind spot is too distracting to be worthwhile. And my belief that rear view mirrors are useless grows ever stronger; after all, if I have to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into the car in front of me, I certainly don't have the time to check my mirror first. What good would it do anyway? I simply don't have the coordination to look and drive at the same time. I mean, you've got pedals, the steering wheel, signals, mirrors... it's too much. I can barely pat my head and rub my tummy simultaneously. I'm doing my best to convince Scott that all I need to become a safer driver are these two signs on our car:

and

Scott's resistance to this idea puzzles me.