Tonight Dad drove me an hour away, to a disused airfield, to show me the basics of driving. At first I did pretty well, managed fine considering I had never, ever driven before until I 'stopped funny' and the car juddered to a halt.
My Dad, bless his soul for trying to teach me, stayed calm but I could feel the tension and it was making me nervous. After that I kept focusing on the accelerator, obsessed with watching the rpm, instead of the clutch and at one point I went over 10mph and seriously panicked. I was trying to ask how to 'brake right' without screaming in sheer panic. It was terrifying.
I drove up the air strip one last time at a reasonable 6mph and remembered how to brake and that was it. I couldn't take any more. I'm pretty sure my dad couldn't either. He shot out of the passenger seat like a bullet.
Even thinking about the experience 2 hours on makes me break out in a cold sweat.
I think I'll stick to public transport for now.
*reaches for the tranquillisers*