Lessons in Driving #101

So, part of the reason I haven’t blogging like a mofo of late is that I’ve been working on my driving skills. Perfecting the art of the old hook turn, three-point turn and the miscellaneous turn, which relates to any right turn, from a left lane, through a red light, to honk at a pretty brunette as she crosses a non-residential street, which can be more difficult than it sounds, because as brown is the new blonde it’s often hard to tell the difference between a natural femme fatale and a “good for multiple washes” impostor, but I think it’s all starting to come together.

Of course, I can’t take all the credit from my unique and often improvised driving methods, most of the accolades belong to my teachers, great people with great patience, but above all others, I've probably learnt more from my pops, or as many of you who have met him already know him as the villain from Schwarzenegger’s 1985 Commando.

I was planning to provide as list of his most unique observations while in the passenger seat, but I thought I'd let you in a little more and supply an abridged transcript from several outings, which, if you're ever lucky enough to meet the old bean, can all often be heard within a five minute dialogue him.

(Upon stopping a tad too quickly when approaching a red light)

“...you know, I’d have failed you for that. No questions asked, get out of the car, ‘I don’t care where you live; you can catch the bus home’ no second chances either – that’s it. I’d even ban your kids from driving, I know I'd be their Grandfather, but if you can’t stop properly, I don’t want your kids on the road.”

(Upon being asked about the conditions of taking the driving test)

“...just keep your head and stay calm, it’s easy. Your sister passed, didn’t she, and she’s a terrible driver (simulates my sister changing lanes and cutting someone off on the freeway with accompanying sound effects). You know, I drove for two years in England before I got my license. True story, when I actually went for my license I drove to the test in my Capri, I’d had a drinks beforehand for the nerves, but the c*** instructor failed me nonetheless…so, I pulled over and kicked him out of my car (profanities altered for publication).”

(Upon driving past a school between 8.45-9.15am and 3.15-4pm)

“If you never listen to anything I teach you on the roads again, please listen to this: women drivers are crazy! Don’t be fooled, they will kill you given the chance and it’ll be your fault. Well, it’s actually not woman drivers, but mothers. They’re insane, son. They have their own system of communication on the road that is different to everyone else’s. You go to a school before and after it starts and you’ll see what I mean, it’s a whole new system of driving (again he provides audio and visual aides as he illustrates trying to pick up my step brothers from football practice). I won't give fifty yards near a school at those times, not for love nor money."

Lastly, and this is my favorite…

(Upon a random driving tip which is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a mid-twenties starlet crossing the street)

“So, the best way to stay safe is to keep in the left lane, if they want to over take you they can FUC… (catches sight of girl) - You know, if I was your age I’d go crazy. The girls in this country are magnificent. When I was growing up there were a few, but here it’s ridiculous. If I were you, I’d never stop having trying to have sex, I’d be great.”

Now, I imagine of the three readers I have out there, that one or two of you might be thinking this is a rather lucid, if not a rather indulgent, retelling. I assure you, it’s not. And if you’re still suspicious about the authenticity of my transcript, please read through it again, but this time try to imagine the following image gruffly dictating in a Mancunian accent. This is actually one of the only photos I have of my pops outside of courtroom renderings and newspaper stills:

Note the striking resemblance we have to one another.