Ever since I turned 18, my driving career has been a series of unfortunate events. My first car accident involved me turning out of a McDonalds – with my Mum and brother in the car – and promptly sideswiping the length of my 1984 Toyota Corona along a Keep Left sign.
This accident has been the cause of many, many jokes over the years, obviously jokes aimed at making fun of my scary ability to hit inanimate objects whilst driving. You might rightly assume the Keep Left incident was the first of many fender benders, very few of which have actually involved other cars, on the road (which I suppose is a good thing?).
Let it be said that I think I’m an okay driver. When it comes to actually driving on the streets, I know my hook turns and how a roundabout works; I know you should stay in the left lane unless overtaking and I’m aware of 40km zones around schools. My Dad taught me how to drive, and I think he is an excellent driver, while my mother is a little more timid when behind the wheel. I imagine I got the best of both of them whilst on my Ls, so it’s hard to work out where I got this complete lack of spacial awareness from.
Following on from the Keep Left incident, I reversed into Dad’s 4WD in our driveway, a week after procuring a 1997 Toyota Corolla. I mowed into a brick letterbox whilst housesitting a place with a scarily narrow driveway a few years later. Then there was that time I sideswiped a street blockade in a city laneway late one night. Oops!
So yesterday, when I turned too sharply and left a significant impression on both the passenger door of my Toyota RAV4 and the trolley bay at Officeworks, I finally had to accept that perhaps I’m not such a good driver after all.
At least there were no tears this time – just a lot of cursing and the worry of who would be more upset about this particular accident – my boyfriend or my Dad. A text message to Mum to advise her of my latest incident proved just how much this kind of thing is now expected from me. Her simple reply?
‘Oops’