Ahh, nothing like your first nighttime drive. You've just gotten your Level I license, and you're ready to get those hours so you can take your driving test and get your REAL license. Only...uh...you have to drive at night first. Oh, craaap... (just imagine Mr. Sir saying that, ok?)
Now, my first nighttime drive, over a year ago, was nothing out of the ordinary. Turning practice, signal lights, difference between headlights and "brights"...oh yeah, and some dude coming onto his front lawn with a baseball bat because he thought we were circling the neighborhood and about to rob him or something. It was with particular relish that when I filled out the little booklet where you're supposed to record driving hours, I stated that this was "defensive driving."
So a couple of nights ago, I took my first night drive since spring break and found out something very important about myself: I should never, ever drive at night. Period. Unless it's a life-or-death emergency, which this night drive actually turned into when I made a very stupid mistake while making a turn on M-24. Kids, don't try this at home!
Seriously. I think I must've been put under a curse at birth, because whenever I drive at night something screwy happens. First night drive = baseball bat. 2nd night drive = parking lot crisis. 3rd night drive = freak out on highway; spend rest of drive crammed into the back of a pickup truck watching Dad drive. Final night drive, 2 nights ago = what can only be described as a "drawer-shitting party" on M-24.
Oh yes. Profanity. I went there. Believe me, compared to some of the language I've used in the car, the s-word is freaking innocuous. Honestly, it's actually pretty well-deserved, considering some of the situations I've gotten into while on the road.
I am not a bad driver. Really, I'm not. It's just that A) I have bad luck, B) I have bad eyesight (and yes, I DO wear my glasses when I'm driving, THANKYOUVERYMUCH), and C) I have less than a year of on-and-off practice behind the wheel. Add that to my excessive awkwardness, the fact that I'm learning to drive in two different (VERY different) cars, and it's a miracle that I haven't caused accidents that make a war zone look like a birthday party.
So, when I drive at night my nervousness is amplified. I decided that I should try to kick that problem to the curb by--what else?--practicing night driving. I don't even know what the technical term is for what I was trying to do--let's just say I was making a legal u-turn on M-24. You know, with the help of those divider thingies (I THINK it's called a boulevard, not too sure), those things that divide a road so that people can turn around without causing a wreck? Right, well, I now have proof that those things are NOT idiot-proof OR even safe.
So I'm driving at night, and trying to practice switching lanes and turning around. Not so difficult, right? Apparently it is...especially when you've got the visibility of a spider (spiders are veeery nearsighted, or so I'm told) and the practice of a...well, of a teenage girl who's only driven at night three times.
My first problem was that after I got into the turn lane, I would "drift out," a.k.a. move veeery slowly back into the 55-mph traffic. BAD IDEA, obviously, seeing as I was going 30 mph for the turn. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was having trouble keeping my speed up. I am the opposite of a speeder. I have trouble getting up to 40 mph, especially on a two-lane road, in which case I annoy the crap out of people because they want to pass me and BURN RUBBER. Faaail. So you can imagine how much FUN (sarcasm hand rasied) it was to keep up at 55. Yeah...not so much.
But the icing on the cake was when I was going into the turn lane, ready to turn around and go the opposite direction, and I saw a huge WRONG WAY sign staring me right in the face. Obviously, it was there so people didn't turn the opposite way into 55-mph traffic and get creamed. But I took it to mean that I was going the wrong way. (It wouldn't be the first time...I'll explain that later.) So I panicked and started to slow down. And then DAD panicked, rightly so seeing as in addition to slowing down I was "drifting" again, grabbed the wheel, and said a few choice words (well, ONE of us had to). I took that to mean that I was right in my assumption that I was going the wrong way.
But I was actually going the RIGHT way, and stopping was BEYOND bone-headed, it was downwright life-threatening. Long story short, we had to BACK UP on M-24 (this is the part that you should NEVER attempt unless A) you're a trained professional, or B) like me, you are lucky enough to have a moment when there are no cars behind you for about thirtysomething miles) so I could make the turn. This was succeeded by a lecture on the proper execution on a turn and why you should never, EVER do what I'd just done.
The upshot of it all was that I got a great inside joke out of the whole thing (and a healthy respect for turning at night). "Think of it this way," Dad said at the end of his long lane-changing-and-turning-101 speech. "If YOU were scared, think of the guy in the lane next to you! The thing is, in a situation like that, you'll have three people sh**ing their drawers: you, the passenger in your car, and the guy next to you."
"And probably the guy behind me, too," I helpfully added.
"Him too," Dad agreed. And then, to my total amazement, he let me drive home.
On the way, I suggested that we not tell Mom about--and I quote--"my drawer-sh**ing party on M-24." Well, being us, we HAD to tell her what had happened on the road. Only what with my inability to speak at a pace normal humans can understand (anyone who has ever had to say "what? what? WHAT?" during a phone conversation with me knows exactly what I'm talking about), she thought I said "dwarf-sh**ing party" and...well, you can imagine. I don't think we stopped laughing for half an hour.
Little did I know that this was only the beginning of my summer driving troubles.
Today I drove during rush hour (ooh, FUN--sarcasm hand raised again), staring directly into the sun, in an extremely responsive car. The last one sounds stupid, but trust me, if you've been driving a car where you have to stomp on the pedals before it stops or goes, and then you switch to a car that is so responsive that the slightest touch on the brake causes the car to jerk, you might as well be learning to drive all over again.
I'm not going to go into full details. I'm just going to give a list-style overview. Here is, in short, what happened after I got behind the wheel today:
1. I'm used to backing out of the driveway in my dad's truck, which he leaves parked in the driveway (we have a VERY wide driveway, so my mom can get her van out of the garage without Dad having to move his truck). Today I had to back out of the garage in the van...and not only did I run over our front grass, I also ran over our garbage can. Oops.
2. Shortly after I left the housing development, I had to pull over for an ambulance. Only problem? I was in the left lane, and could not get to the right lane thanks to heavy traffic (this was while I was in the middle of town). So, I just stopped and let the ambulance go around me. No collision occurred.
3. Not two minutes after the first ambulance roared past me, ANOTHER came zooming out of nowhere. This time I was in the right lane and able to pull over...only problem with THAT was, a bunch of people in the left lane had to pull over as well. Guess who they chose to cut in front of?
4. You guessed it, ANOTHER DAMN AMBULANCE, followed by a police car, caused me to have to pull over and get cut off AGAIN. All I have to say is, that must've been one hell of a bad accident. Either that, or three accidents occured within five minutes of each other, all of them in the same vicinity.
5. The sun came out. I think this is self-explanatory...at least, it is for any poor, nearsighted person who has ever had to drive without sunglasses.
6. On the way home, I not only had to contend with sun, but also with the fact that I cannot drive more than 35 miles an hour and keep a consistent speed at the same time. I also had to deal with a ton of curves and turns, going at 55, and a few lane changes, which I think we've established I SUCK at, and oh yeah, I was wearing new glasses which I hadn't gotten used to yet. All that in mind, it's a miracle we made it home in one piece.
All I have to say is, thank God I have a full summer to practice before I have to get my license in November...
STOLEN DIALOGUE
"How the hell did I end up on Walden? I wanted to be on Silver Bell! I always f*** that up! How the hell does Mark do that without getting messed up? I swear, the Godd**n street moved!"
Person one: Don't hit that lamppost!
Person two: I SEE the damned lamppost, thanks.
Person one: "Damned?" Well, yeah, you're right...it IS condemned...
"That dude lives at 1024 No-Balls Lane."
"Chad Michael Murray is a scum-sucking sea lizard."
"If you told me an alien landed in my backyard, I might not believe you. But if you told me that I was going to get the highest score on the ACT out of all of my boarding-school-attending, Ivy League-bound friends, I would think you'd completely lost your mind."
Person one: What the hell possessed you to watch Queer as Folk?
Person two: Teenage rebellion, hot guys...camera angles...
Person one: God forbid we ever forget that you go to film school.
[This is an old one. After being in public school and obsessing over getting into Interlochen for months, and then finding out that I got in, I had the following conversation with my friends]
Me: So guess what? I got in! I'm leaving next week!
Person one: Great!
Person two: Wait, you're already going to college? I thought you were a junior this year...
Person one: No, dumbass, she's going to Interlochen!
[Neither one of them knew what Interlochen was until I explained it to them]
"For the past half hour, I've been suffering from 'what the hell is that syndrome.'"
Person one: If Batman were real, I think he'd be best friends with Tim Burton.
Person two [from across the yard]: What? Did you just say that Batman is going to elope with Tim Burton?
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