It took me awhile to get my license. Not because I kept failing, but because I was lazy. I lived downtown and preferred walking. It wan't until my later-ish twenties (see how I avoided using my age?!) that I actually got off my duff and took the test. Passed on the first try, of course. Like you would expect anything less.
Also flew through my road test with flying clouds.
Never understood what that saying meant. What does it mean to pass with flying colours? Perhaps I should look this idiom up on the intersnacks. Is that an idiom? Or something else?
What I am getting at is - I love driving.
Even at night. Fog. Rain. It doesn't really bother me. Mostly because, I am a safe driver. Other than the lead foot thing we've discussed once or twice. That being said, I really am good at handling my vehicle. Still, I am a little nervous about taking road tests, like someone is going to see me making a California stop and take my car wielding abilities away. And my vehicle represents but one thing to me. Freedom.
I have an escape at my fingertips. It's so comforting to know I can flee at a moments notice. Flee what? It all. I can run away. I can be a runaway. How exciting!
Anyway, last night I drove down to Nanaimo to pick the Sidekick up from ye olde ferry terminal. It was a nice drive. Peaceful. Despite the fact I chose a horrible Songza playlist and was trapped listening to terrible music. No, I couldn't change it. That would have involved stopping and pulling over to the side of the road, which wasn't going to happen. Safety first, people! It is dangerous to fiddle with your phone while driving. I've seen the commercials!!! And I didn't hit one red light.
Other than the music, it was a gorgeous night. A little windy. Like I actually thought I was going to pull a Dorthy and land my truck on a witch from OZ and have her sister get all up in my business. Such a horrible thought, considering I always identified with the Wicked Witches. Truth be told, though, I wouldn't steal the dead girl's ruby shoes. No. That's just low. I always considered Dorthy a bit of a selfish bitch for stealing from her victim. Good fairy saying so or not. She should have been ashamed!
Back to reality, I do get a little nervous on the Inland Island Highway. Apparently, according to Dr. Googles, it is called Highway 19. I had no idea. The anxiety comes, not from the darkness or traffic, because I have headlights and there is virtually no one on the highway at ten at night, but because of the elk.
I have this undeniable fear that I'm going to hit an animal. It terrifies me. What if Bambi doe-leaps out in front of my car? Actually, was Bambi a doe? Or a buck? Does anyone know? The voice sounds young boyish, but that name is feminine, no? Was Bambi asexual? These are the things that go through my mind.
Moving on, I'd be riddled with guilt if I killed Bambi or any other asexual animal. I couldn't handle it. I'd be the person trying to give the creature mouth-to-mouth. It would ruin driving for me. And it happens, too. I personally know a handful of people who have mowed down magical creatures from the forest we've encroached on.
This is the only part of driving that gets under my skin. The possibility that I might hit an animal. What can I say? I'm a nature loving type of gal. Still, I am happy my ex, Scraps, poked and prodded me into getting my license. I guess I am grateful for the escape at my fingertips, which wouldn't exist if I didn't have the plastic card in my wallet with the most atrocious picture of me ever. Yes, I look like a Latina gang member.
Don't worry, I am not planning on running away. Not yet. Rest assure, if and when I do, I won't be stealing the shoes of anyone I kill. Accidentally or not.