Changed da house,
Changed da look.
BTW, my bathrobe's usually pink
and we don't have a fireplace.
Other than that,
it's pretty accurate...
Psst...click the words above to navigate.
Best viewed, unfortunately, in Internet Explorer.
Monday, July 04, 2005
~ A verbal montage of Yesterday ~
Get into car, adjust seat, start engine, get into first gear, release handbrake, roll down the hill.
Neighbours' children tossing an oval ball wrapped with a dead pig.
Little girl walking obtuse dog.
Other neighbour walking big obtuse dog.
Car rolling downhill. Brake lights turn on. Ground to a halt as dog owners disentangle dogs, children continue playing and my car is in the middle of this.
I'm an L plater and no one is making this easier for me.
Manage to negotiate out of Great Valley of Ignorance. Make a U Turn, start to move uphill. Changing gears. Ball hits back of car. Car stalls on hill. I think I hit a small child with the back of my car while moving forward. Don't ask me how.
Start to make hillstart. Of course I roll backwards. I imagine that I'm gonna hit stupid kids and stupid dogs. Because by this juncture, I'm thoroughly stressed out and don't have the time to cool down and get perspective.
Drive on Northbourne Avenue. Husband casually tells me to pull over into petrol station. Small confusion. Car stalls again in the middle of nowhere. I've had it, I get out and order him to drive.
I burst into tears. From the time we leave the petrol station to the time we get on the highway, I am a Drip.
We pull into the carpark finally. The husband apologises but I am not comforted.
I get into church looking miserable. I can't sing the first 4 hymns.
I try again after worship. I reverse nicely. Nothing happens until he tells me to follow Marcel's car. Then he tells me later on that I have to turn left and do a sharp U-turn using a small corner, because I missed the turning. I tell him I was following Marcel. It turns out Marcel usually goes straight and I was supposed to turn right somewhere else.
So I try to do a sharp U-turn. And of course I don't make it. I end up doing a 3-point turn on a slightly slopey area even though I haven't learnt how to do it yet.
I park at the building where we have bible class, on the dirt that is now mostly mud. I quell the growing anger.
I take the time in bible class to recover. The lesson was dynamic. We make plans after class to have Laksa down the street with another family. I try to drive again.
Because I parked on a down slope and don't want to end up running into the Irish Club across the next carpark, I reverse. Then I straighten the car on the dirt and aim to drive straight then turn right. Husband tells me to turn left, get onto the concrete, then turn a sharp right, cutting across a 2-way street.
There is a big pot hole on my right. I get on the concrete. I see other cars backing up behind me.
The 2-way street is ridiculously busy for a Sunday afternoon.
I look to the right until it's clear, then I look to the left and it's clear, and then I look right one last time, look left again and pull out, and then the Husband says "Brake now!" but I'm already in the middle of the narrow two-way street while an idiot in a red car is heading toward me on my right, driving TOO QUICKLY in a small suburb street.
I scream. I turn the car. I make it to the other side. I let the car trundle to a halt as I pull over. I am definitely shaken.
I don't hear words like "It's not your fault." "You did well under the circumstances."
Most of all, I don't hear words like "It's okay. You're safe now. Nothing happened. It's all right. You're scared. Would you like me to drive."
I cannot imagine pulling into a supermarket parking lot after this and trying to park. I get out of the car and say "I cannot do this." He gets out of the car and says "You CAN do this." We swop sides. He's angry. I'm furious.
We reach the supermarket and park. I don't get out of the car. I don't want to have lunch. I don't want to make nice. I don't want to answer questions about the incident. I don't want to break down and cry in front of others. I want to sit in the car until my nerves are back under my skin. I want to know that I don't absolutely suck as a learner driver. I want the world to apologise to me for stupid red cars that come around corners way too fast. I want Australia to apologise to me for having a crap public transportation system.
I try to nail this somehow as the Husband's fault. I know that I can't. I get even more furious inside that I'm scared and I can't control how I feel at this point. I hate driving. The very core of me hates driving. Absolutely abhors it. I hate driving. I hate people who know how to drive. I hate manual cars and think they're the product of the devil.
We eventually go inside to look for the other family. Of course we don't find them. We end up in Laksa House by ourselves and order anything but Laksa. I reluctantly joined the husband in prayer for the food, but I can't say amen. I am still scared shitless and absolutely furious. I cry throughout the meal which tastes too much of tomato.
We call the other family which have already gone home. We tell them we'd join them for mahjong even though the last thing I want to do at this juncture is Talk About It. He drives to their place. We park in their driveway which is on a slope. I curse Canberra for not being flat like Singapore.
I breakdown and cry yet another time. And I tell him what I had wanted to hear from him all along. And he tells me why he got angry with me earlier. Apparently he got narky with me because one of the things I'd said at the supermarket was I didn't want to meet the others because I was embarrassed. He told me he got angry that this was a pride issue for me. I stare at my soaked 3-ply tissue in disbelief.
The hostess finally steps out the door and tilts her chin as if to say, "Are you coming in or not!" So we pull our acts together and make up and go in. And I know I still love my husband to the moon because he had never stopped being gentle even though I'd pretty much wailed at him 3 times today and cried throughout lunch and made him look like an ogre in a Chinese restaurant.
I check my reflection and comment that I look like shit. He tells me I never look like shit.
I tell the hostess briefly what happened outside the church driveway with the red car. She makes sympathetic noises and a cup of tea for me. We mahjong for 2 and a half hours. We think I won.
As the husband and I make plans to leave, we talk about the hosts' crazy driveway, and how the traffic on their corner is crazy. Cars constantly charge up and down the curve because it's a long road in a quiet suburb.
I tell Tony quietly that I'll try and drive from here back to our place, which is a half hour drive away. I ask that he reverses the car out of the hellish driveway first and then I'll drive the rest of the way back.
The hostess comments that he should actually make me negotiate the driveway because I need the practice. I envision flicking mahjong tiles at her head.
I drive us back to Palmerston without event. Through Northbourne Avenue. Onto Gungahlin Drive. Traffic is heavy but I manage it well. The car doesn't stall. We arrive home safe.
He tells me I've done a good job on that last leg. The last of the fury leaves my body.
I realise my eyes have been hurting the whole day.
And I still hate driving. I've never liked it.
I've only had 8 lessons, after all...
1 Comments:
hang in there, velle =)
By
pinto, at 2:56 am
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