It’s a gas gas gas

But can you name the tune the words come from?

I am having refresher driving lessons.  Fifteen and a half years on from stunning my mother with my ability to pass my driving test (she took me out to lunch on the strength of it), I am actually behind the wheel again – and so far, actually quite good.

So, I can change up gears (changing down not as good), brake going into bends and accelerate coming out of them, and actually start to believe my driving instructor that I can do more in higher gears than I thought.

I can also go over speed bumps…a necessity where I live.  And I even got to practise putting fuel into a car for the first time.

Driving is definitely in the ‘feel the fear…’ category, but as it is moving into the ‘feel the need…’ category more, I think I might finally have incentives for keeping going.  Even the fact that I am not back to complete beginner status is a boost to the ego.

The strange thing is being able to drive through areas that feel busy, because there’s someone at my elbow to tell me what to do.  My bus journeys in the morning are a bit more interesting now, because I am even trying to read the road ahead, as though I were driving.  (The only down side is, every time I think we should be changing up a gear, we pull into a bus stop.  Obvious limitations with this form of virtual driving.)

I’m not even going to think about how many million lifts I owe in lieu of how many I’ve been given over the years.  But at least some of them have been paid in cake or other foodstuffs, I reckon.  And for those friends who live outside of the reaches of Lothian Buses, I might even be able to visit you.  Not immediately, but a lot sooner than walking over, anyway.

Dan pointed out that we missed our window of opportunity to drive when fuel was cheaper.  My inner Scot/Yorkshirewoman is going to be terrified by the cost of it all.  But little by little, we’ll get there.