Riding Along In Dad's Automobile

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Why I'm banned from driving. And the tales of SuperCar.

Submitted: May 03, 2009

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Submitted: May 03, 2009

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Apparently I will never be allowed near the car again. So I’ve been told, and in all honesty I can understand why but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. In fact I hate it. I mean, I’m twenty three and I still can’t drive. And now it looks like I will never drive. Ever. Admittedly the fact that my partner can’t drive reassures me somewhat. Or that one of my friends from childhood can’t drive does also comfort me. But He will be allowed to touch the car and she has just bought a little fiesta to learn to drive in. Me, on the other hand. I get into the car and my dad starts muttering to it comfortingly ‘it’s alright, don’t worry, I won’t let her touch you again.’

I’ll start at the beginning. A number of years ago, my dad bought a second hand ’96 Mondeo, as a second car that he could use as a run around type of thing. Over the years this car has suddenly morphed into the most fantastic thing on wheels ever. It has been referred to as the ‘good’ car and I have been told that it’s so good it would nearly go without petrol. My dad has convinced himself that his car is an amalgamation of Kit from Knight Rider, Herbie and a transformer. He now spends much of his time trying to convince the rest of us of the same. He talks about it in awed hushed whispers. This started as a running joke but there are times when we worry that he has started to believe that the car is invincible.

Recently, dad and I were in the other car which broke down about half an hour from our destination. The reason we weren’t in SuperCar was that it deserved a break as everyone else gets a day off and apparently the car needs one too. Anyway, so there we are half an hour away from where we were meant to be going in a traffic jam when the car suddenly decides that it doesn’t want to go anywhere. All dad will say is that the good car would never have stranded us like that.

A little while ago, the car had some sort of problem with the alarm system. It was beeping randomly. I was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea when all I heard was him calling me from outside. As I was comfortable, I yelled back asking him what he wanted. He just yelled even louder for me to come outside. So I went outside to find him gazing at the car in wonder. “Lookit,” He said, “She’s trying to communicate with me.”

He also frequently says that the car would nearly take him anywhere he wanted as long as he told it where to go. Apparently, the car is evolving a human like intelligence and soon all he’ll have to do is sit back and let the car paddle its own canoe. Like I said, we worry about him. His devotion to the car is incredible. If we ever mention getting a new car, he looks at us like we’d suggested taking my little brother to a shop and trading him in for a wheelie bin. There will never be another car like it, so he tells us.

So, there are several reasons as to why I’m not allowed near this amazing, intelligent vehicle. The first is that I don’t show it the respect and affection that it really needs. Oh yes, not only is this car SuperCar, the rescuer of distressed damsels and fighter of crimes against cars, It is also emotionally unstable.

There was also an incident before I went off to university. Dad was teaching me how to drive. We were in a field which he was planning on using for something and I was practising emergency braking. It was all going very well until he looked in the rear view mirror. The field wasn’t so much of a field as a series of skid marks. It couldn’t be used until the next year. That was the end of the practising emergency braking in fields. On the plus side, though, I’m fairly certain that I could brake in an emergency.

Then came the oops incident. Again, I was driving in a field. I was just driving in circles, in theory nothing could have gone wrong. Until I took a corner too tight and too fast and Dad thought the car went up onto two wheels. There ended the lesson.

And lastly my biggest transgression regarding SuperCar, the reason for the whispered reassurances to the car about me never touching the steering wheel again. I was reversing in the driveway and I thought that the wall was getting a little too close to the car. So I drove up to the yard where I thought I’d have more space. This all went well up until I somehow managed to reverse into a tree. This tree happened to have a low branch. This branch managed to make a huge hole in SuperCar’s bumper. The best part was that I hadn’t even realised it had happened. I pulled away from the tree and was quite some distance from it when the car cut out on me. I could not for the life of me get it started again. According to dad, it was suffering from shock.

I am now starting to doubt whether or not I will ever be driving. But I hold some hope that he will eventually sicken of being my driver and lessons will resume. Until then I have to listen to him swear to SuperCar that I won’t be driving it for the foreseeable future.


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