The Fast And The Fictitious

Another day, another driving lesson. Today I actually managed to drive from Aquinas all the way back to the merry shire of Cheadle Hulme. This might not seem too great a feat for those of you who've passed the fabled Test - which recieves more attention within the teenage sphere-of-prestige than anything else in the world. You'd be mistaken for thinking it was a titanic gladitorial struggle; the only way to pass The Test would be to destroy the instuctor's face with sheer lateral G force. Maybe that might spice it up; survival of the fittest and all that. They always say "drive defensively" and so a brutal fight to the death in a televised showdown would put this to its limit. You can't be criticized for giving way too much once you've annhilated you're opponent's car by ramming it into a spiked titanium wall.

As I was saying - this might not seem an awesome human achievement to be remembered in centuries to come, but - at least in my mind - my driving lessons are a lot like the Playstation classic Need For Speed Underground 2. Everything's the same - the hot girls waving from the sidelines, the perpetual night, the custom-built cars and the nitro speed. 0-60 in under a milisecond. The Stig ain't got nothing on me, however I suspect that I'm the only one of this opinion. My perception of certain areas of the Stockport transit infrastructure has been irepparably altered by other people's scary stories - Josh's frequent allusions to the nerve shattering experience that is the Stanley Green roundabout, or my mum's aversion to the (not actually very) scary junction just outside of Aquinas. Understandably I was fairly intimidated by the stampede of cars that hurtled in my direction the first time I was asked to turn left after Nangreaves Road, though I didn't kill anyone and did not juggernaut into anybody else's vehicle. This is even more of a celebratable event because I have approximately 2.5 near-death experiences per-day on the said crossroads.

I reckon I'm the next Michael Schumacher. My driving instructor thinks I'm the next road-traffic accident statistic. We'll see who is proven right first..

P.S. When Sebastian Vettel won his first grand prix, the press in Germany went wild. One journalist asked him;
Reporter: "This must be the greatest day of your life - how does it feel?"
Vettel: "You weren't there the day I lost my virginity"