Later today I will take my driving test. Oh yes, at the ripe old age of 43.
This would be the second time, but I count it as a first as the initial try was 22 years ago. I barely remember it and I am a completely different person now. For a start, I am sitting here with a bag of frozen peas against my back, as I seemed to have strained something just because I slept on a different mattress a couple of nights ago. 21 year old me wouldn't have noticed!
Back then, young Sarah was cocky, reckless and easily distracted. Those traits still remain, but they are now tempered greatly by experience. Also, this time round, being able to drive is a hundred times more important. In 1994, travelling involved just me and a backpack. Now, it's me, a backpack and a six year old. A much more complicated proposition.
Back then too, I was in student digs, lived in a city and could catch a ride with friends whenever I wanted. I barely had any possessions, and didn't do big grocery shops. Pretty much everything I wanted was within a half hour's walk. Why I decided to take lessons is a mystery to me now.
As to why I am getting my licence now? The driving need is my commute to work. Getting to the office takes 90 minutes by public transport and only 30 by car. I am unutterably grateful for the lifts I've received but that cannot continue. I love what I'm doing now so getting a job closer to home is a last resort.
Apart from the commute, being able to drive would open up the world for us: we'd be able to get to places that we couldn't go to because it would take too long by train or we actually can't get to by other means. Forests, beaches and strange places with intriguing names we've only ever seen on a map. We'd be able to visit folk in far away places! By golly, the places we'd go, the things we'd do!
Wish me luck, friends!
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