Behind The Wheel

(by request - Lindy, knock yourself out!)
I don't drive. I have a driver's license. I've had it for almost 7 years now. I just don't drive.
I never really wanted to drive that much but it was a given: one turns 18, one learns to drive (in Croatia 16 year olds are not allowed to drive). My aunt from Germany even gave me the money for it so I basically had no choice. So I found a driving school that held lectures in my village so I wouldn't have to go to the city for the theoretical part but only to drive once I pass the written test. Unfortunately, we had no idea that the guy who held the lectures was a thief who would rob me of my money (and not just me but a bunch of other people who were trying to get their licenses there) and that I would have to pay to a regular school the entire fee once again. (So thanks, Auntie, but we basically threw you money out of the window.) (And before you all ask me why we didn't sue or something - try trying a case in any of the Croatian courts. And good luck with that.)
So I passed the written test the second time I took it (stupid much??!) and it was time to sit in an actual car. I knew absolutely nothing about cars. Not a thing. So my instructor took me the the place where the first lessons take place: I obviously don't know the English word for it but it's like a playground with tracks circling and crossing each other, where one learns how to control the car in the first place. He asked me if I knew how to start a car, I said I had no idea whatsoever and he showed me the drill. So we switched places, I pressed the clutch, turned the key, pressed the accelerator, the car made some noise and... died.
We were out of gas. Now, a reasonable person would have taken it as a sign from above saying Step away from the car, slowly, and never ever return. But not me. I was just getting started.
I wasn't the best student my instructor has ever had, I can tell you that. But he used to say no one makes the class go faster. lol He called me Otrov (Poison) or Vještica (Witch). I believe it was because of my sharp tongue. We laughed a lot. And I made some dangerous moves. For instance, once we were in a pretty crowded street and I somehow hit my hand at the wheel, let it go and yelled: "Oh my God, I think I broke my nail!" and then examined said nail while my instructor was grabbing the wheel trying to keep us and the people on the street alive. Another time we were in a street not particularly wide where there were cars parked along one side and a car came from the opposite direction, I panicked, let go of the wheel, covered my eyes and yelled for my mother. Once again, instructor grabbing the wheel...
Believe it or not, I passed the driving test the first time I took it. True, I almost ran over two little girls but I got my license nevertheless. And there I was: out in the street, behind the wheel.
First I had to get used to our car. Learning how to drive in a new car and then having to drive a piece of junk that was as old as me wasn't the easiest thing. And my dad is not the best confidence builder in the world. In fact, I would return home crying so many times that mom almost forbade us to go for a drive again. Once I was trying to get into the garage but I was too slow. Dad yelled "Steer! Steer!" and then "Brakes! Brakes!" but I hit the step on the left and the wheel got stuck. The car wouldn't move. I silently left the car and went straight to my room, leaving dad to fix the crap I have caused.
Then dad bought another car, two years younger. Not an improvement, really.
Honestly, the biggest problem was the fact that I hated driving. I would get in the car and froze stiff. I would grasp to the wheel so hard that my fingers would turn white, I would sweat, I would get hot flushes and would be blinded with panic. Of course, things would happen.
I rubbed at a peach tree once I was getting out of the garage without even realising it until I saw dad in the rear-view mirror waving frantically at me. See, I had no feeling of the car whatsoever. Sometimes the engine would die and I wouldn't even notice till dad would warn me. Hard to believe, right?
Once we went out on a Saturday night and we were in a near by village when all of a sudden I saw the police car with the lights on behind me. I pulled over, terrified. I had no idea what have I done. Then they sat in their car behind me for a while. Finally, one cop came to my window and asked for my license and registration. I handed them to him, he took one quick look, gave them back to me and said they had thought I was a Gipsy driving around in a stolen white jetta. Uhm... I wasn't. I was so upset it took me six times to start the car and leave.
But the worst thing that has happened was when Sonja and I were going to pick my sister up from school. So we were on the road between Darda and Osijek and there was this truck going really slowly. Now, I don't mind slow, really. The slower the better. But I would have been late so I overtook it. And then, as I was returning to my track, my car went berserk! I steered it back to my track and it threw me back to the right track and I tried to control it but it just kept swerving from one track to the other till it got off the road and down, down... heading to the water. I was sure we were going to die. And no, my life did not flew in front of my eyes. All I could think about was: "We are going to die." You see, just a couple of weeks before that a brother and a sister had an car accident and drowned at the very spot. But somehow, instead of going straight to the bottom, car went kind of diagonally and crashed into a tree. I have no idea how we climbed up to the road again, all I know is that both of us had dirt under our nails. We got out without so much as a scratch. What had really happened? Apparently, the front left tyre got flat slowly so I didn't even notice (I wouldn't notice that my car is not running so this was no surprise). And as I steered to the left trying to get back to my track, it got under the... whatever the thing that the tyre is on is called and threw the car out of balance and out of my control.
The car was only slightly damaged and I was back in it within two days. Still scared, still panicking, still hating to drive.
The funniest thing happened when my parents were replacing the front door. They threw the old door frame to the yard. So I was getting out of the garage and I saw that the door frame was in my way. I got out, asked dad to move it but he said I had plenty of space. Guess what? He was wrong. I ran right over it with the back left wheel, it rose up, hit the side of the car and stayed in that position. I got out of the car, shut the door, gave the key to dad and walked to work.
A few weeks later I got into the car for the last time. We went out for a drink. It was night, it was cold, it was foggy. As we were about to go home (mind you, we never left the village, I had to drive for about 3 streets maybe) I didn't see a thing. Windows got white with the condensation and I couldn't see a thing. To pull over by the road till they clear out - never crossed my mind. I drove blindly. We got to my street, to my house, and I turned over to my drive way across the canal. I missed it. OK, not completely but the front left wheel drove by the driveway and the car got stuck, with one wheel in the canal and the rest of the car on the driveway. Dad got out, shook his head, got into the canal, ordered me to drive back as he used all of his strength to lift the car up. He managed to do that somehow and the freed the car.
I have never driven since.