Confessions of a terrible driver

I never thought I was a bad driver, until my beloved broke it to me last night, after I’d told her the tale I’m about to tell you. I mean, yes, I’d joked about it because it took me eight times to pass my driving test and I thought it was ironic. But now it’s been confirmed. 

It all started when I offered someone a lift. I like to think I’m quite generous with lifts. I’m often the designated and I don’t mind because I’m more fun after a few lime and soda waters than I am after wine. I get all “I’m taking my shoes off I don’t care if I’m stepping in glass” and obnoxious and hard work. Oh and I’m a vomiter. Nothing sexier than waking up on a Saturday morning nauseous, stinking of stale beer and with a fake eyelash stuck to your cheek, right? So yeah I prefer, to be sober and up at 8 making screggs and chattering. 
But if someone wants to drink I’m more than happy to offer them a lift. Saves them the taxi fare and saves me getting lost alone. That’s not to say it prevents all wrong turns, but at least I’m not panicking on my own when I do take one.
So this week I offered my director a lift to a work meal. I offered other people too, but despite an open bar it was a school night and a lot of them were opting to stay on the soft drinks. This offer is where it all started to go wrong.
There’s been inklings that I’m not the best driver in the world in the past. On an early date with my girlfriend we ended up the wrong way on a dual carriageway. We’d (surprise surprise) taken a wrong turn and I tried to rectify it by turning left. She pointed out the no entry sign and I tried not to look stupid having not seen that and calmly advised her that those signs were for guidance only and “nobody really listened to them.”
SPOILER ALERT: no entry signs are not for guidance. 
Cue three seconds later when two lanes of traffic was speeding towards us at 50 mph. Well, people were going mental at me- tooting their horns and gesturing. What’s a girl to do? I’ll tell you what. I screamed and did a U-ey when there was a gap in the traffic then I promised that this would be a story we looked back on fondly and laugh. We do. And in case you’re wondering we got to where we were going (the seaside) just in time for a 5 hour downpour.
So back to yesterday. It wasn’t going too badly. I was a bit nervous and was driving in heels but it was going alright. Yes we took one wrong turn and I ended up having to do a 27 point turn with a corsa-driver watching my every move (and definitely judging me), t it wasn’t going too badly. We arrived at the venue early and it was locked. The rest of the department started arriving and the decision was made to go to a nearby pub. They would all follow me.
Because I wasn’t under enough pressure.
Now I was the head of a six car convoy, I didn’t know the way and I had my boss in my car. Then comes one of those gaps to allow cars to turn in busy roads. I don’t know what they’re called. And a little slope. 
Gaps between the cars just seemed tiny. My little one litre go-kart couldn’t possibly make it. I kept missing opportunities and thinking “I’d have failed if this was a driving test.” The pressure was really mounting and minutes were passing. 
Let’s remember that 5 of my colleagues cars are also behind me waiting to turn. 
Then I got the nervous giggles. I’d completely forgotten how to drive. This couldn’t be good, my hand hadn’t touched the handbrake in nearly 5 minutes. 
Then my friend beeped. In good humour.
I had to be told when to go. And then all five of the other cars got through straight away. I really needed that J2O by the time we got into the pub car park- and we still had to get to the meal venue yet. 
It’s a good job that part of the recruitment process for my role wasn’t a driving skills test, eh?
So now it’s been decided. I’m labelled. I’m a bad driver. Generous but terrible would be my tag line (if I was a taxi firm), which fortunately (for everyone involved) I’m not.
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