I drove alone in the car to the fish store yesterday. But before you click away from this blog because it’s suddenly become the most boring thing you’ve ever laid eyes on, let me provide some (kind of) titilating background: I only got my license last month and haven’t done much solo driving. When you get your license at 16 or whatever, it’s less about controlling a car and more just about the freedom to get places. When you get your license at 30 there are implications to your actions. The idea of driving a death machine (both physically and environmentally) is apparent. Stopping is more important than giving it gas. And while I drove up Hutchison, slowing for the speed bumps, I felt for a moment the exhilaration a 16-year-old must feel when driving away from their parents for the first time. Then the logic of a 30-year-old descended upon me and was replaced with a feeling of giddiness coupled with the thought: “I can’t believe this is legal.”
I think I am a good driver but that I still need to build my confidence. I have to admit that I was a little astonished to have passed my driving test on my first try. They guy who gave me my test said: “You passed but you need to watch for a few things. Always check your blind spot and learn how to parallel park.” I was like: “Wow. Really?” Basically he was trusting that I wanted to be a better driver…either that or he’s an excellent judge of character (because I do want to be a better driver). But is that why there are so many bad drivers
in Montreal out there? People with no regard for the law, who’ve forgotten what a turning signal is for, or who drive just generally like a maniac. Anyway, I would probably be enraged if I was driving behind myself since I’m a bit light on the gas. Basically I drive like a grandma. So I’ll just stop bitching everyone else out now.
So I got the fish from the fishmonger’s on Parc all by my lonesome without incident. Murray cooked an amazing dinner. The End.