I do not like to drive. In fact, I quite loathe the entire driving experience. This is why, shortly after becomming a stay home mom, I stupidly allowed my license to expire. It had been over 4 years since I even touched a steering wheel. Until yesterday, that is.
While I could probably spend the rest of my life as a happy passenger, reason has recently got the better of me. It might be wise to become a legal motorist again, if nothing else than for those “what if” scenarios. As I sat in the driver’s side for the first time in 4 years on a practice run, it was almost like I was 16 years old again and a “Student Driver” sticker had been afixed to the car door. Only I wasn’t trying too hard to be deep and misunderstood, my mouth wasn’t lined in braces, and my daughter was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. Plus, I kind of knew what I was doing. So not like 16 at all, I guess. Thank God.
As it turns out, driving a car is a lot like riding a bike. Even after a number of years have passed, the main gist is still clear: keep in your lane, don’t hit anything. My feelings on the matter haven’t changed, either. I’m much more akin to the passenger seat.