|Clive, My Old Driving Instructor
Author: Clear Plastic PM
Becky Bloomwood's first, disastrous driving test. Hilarity guaranteed!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Drama - Words: 1,848 - Reviews: 43 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 2 - Published: 01-25-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4816649
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: Really, I can't believe this Shopaholic section is so darn lonely! I mean, when did they add in this category? If you ask me, they should really, really inform or at least send a little e-mail to everyone that a new category has been added. Right? RIGHT?
Alright, hope you really enjoy this! :D It was really fun writing it, anyway.
Okay. Don't panic. Don't panic. Calm... down...
I wipe my damp hands on the side of my jeans and just try to calm myself down. Right Becky… your first driving test. Nothing to worry about. You're going to pass with flying colors.
An image of me crashing into Mr. Abraham's fence suddenly flashes into my mind, and I cringe inwardly. It wasn't my fault, anyhow. If anything it should be Tom's fault; he said he'd lend me the car. And Mr. Abraham wasn't all that mad anyway.
'Are you Rebecca Bloomwood?' an old, creaky man in a hat and a tidy uniform steps up to me, and I hurriedly pick myself up from the orange plastic chair I was sitting on.
'Yes, that's me.' I say breathless, smoothing my hair back. I'm the only one waiting in the lobby, and it just makes me more unnerved. A tiny bead of sweat rolls down my forehead, and I hastily palm it away, smiling forcedly.
'Are those the shoes you're going to drive in?' he asks incredulously, gesturing at my feet with a withered pen. I look down, knowing what to see. Mum and Dad advised me against going to my driving lesson with four inch vermillion high heels. But who cares when you know you're going to fail anyhow?
Stop it with the negativity, Becky. Of course you're going to pass.
Oh, bollocks, everyone who knows me knows that I'm the worst driver in history.
Well, so what if I'm not a good driver? People don't have to be judged by how well they drive. Driving is stupid, if you ask me. I huff and say testily, 'Is there something wrong with my shoes?'
The old man looks taken aback. 'I don't think you'll be able to drive in those.'
'Well, let's see then.' I say stubbornly.
'Alright then… follow me. I'm Clive, and I'll be your new driving instructor, Rebecca.' he walks first, and I trail behind, feeling more and more depressed. My handbag swings limply by my side, drooping like me.
We get to the back of the building, where two double doors await my eventual doom. Clive fiddles around with some dodgy locks before pushing open the doors.
I blink rapidly in the sudden sunlight and my heart sinks to the bottom of my feet.
Oh God, this is utterly ridiculous.
A large car park has been converted into some sort of manic, convoluted obstacle course, with yellow lines marking the roads and STOP signs planted all over the place. There's dummies with ugly painted on faces EVERYWHERE. There's even bright orange cones.
'Over here, Rebecca.' Clive calls out, grinning at my horrified expression. 'Don't worry, everyone looks like that on their first time. It really isn't all that hard as it looks.'
'Are you bloody kidding me?' I splutter. I might as well just walk out of here right now.
'Oy, languague.' Clive says disapprovingly. He expertly opens the left door of a beaten up old sedan, and gives a fancy bow.
Shit, shit, shit…
My palms feel like they've been doused with water by the time I get in the car. I grip the steering wheel tightly, making sure they're at 10 and 2. Clive gets in beside me, grunting slightly. He holds up a clipboard, grinning. 'Alright then. You ready?'
'No.' I squeak.
Now Clive looks a tad concerned. 'You're a nervous one, aren't you? Listen, I've been a driving instructor for over twenty years now, and there's nothing you'd do to surprise me. I've seen every driving mishap you can think of. So drive.'
His words calm me a little. I flex my fingers, and twitch my feet. They're frozen to the ground and they won't bloody cooperate.
'Ready…?' Clive picks up an ancient stopwatch. 'Alright, I'll see how long you take to maneuver your way through our little course right here.'
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. It's as though my hands are melded onto the steering wheel, I literally can't move an inch. Even my eyes are wide open with fear. The road before me looks utterly terrifying. I swear, the more I look, the narrower the road is. A mini traffic light awaits me at a makeshift junction, and I gulp.
'Go!' Clive says.
I don't do anything.
'Rebecca…?' a hint of impatience colors his tone. 'Anytime today?'
'Right.' I croak.
'Ready…' he peers at his stopwatch. 'Go!'
I still don't move. I simply can't. Humiliation washes over me. I can just imagine Clive after work, complaining to his co-workers… Yeah, I had this client called Rebecca… a little loose in the head, if you ask me. Wouldn't even start the car when I told her to!
'Alright, we'll go step by step.' he says patiently. 'The keys are already in the ignition… so you…? He prompts.
I reach out and turn the keys with excessive force, and they nearly break off in my hands. The car roars to life, and I jump in my seat, giving a high, pitchy laugh.
'Rebecca, have you ever driven a car before?' Clive asks, turning to face me.
'What? Of course! I'm just… nervous.'
'This is more than just nervous, dear. I think you might want to think about taking the test later on. Maybe after you've had a little more practice?'
I think of returning home, shamefaced, with no driving license, and the neighbors whispering. I cringe in horror. 'No way, I'm taking the test now.'
'Now Becky, I strongly advise you to--'
'I want to take the test!' I insist, trying to gear myself up. 'Get your stopwatch out, you old git!'
'Excuse me?' he says, obviously offended. 'Look Rebecca, just get out of the car and I'll inform you when you'll retake the test.'
'I said I want to take the test now!'
'Rebecca--' he raises his voice, definitely irritated now.
Before I can stop myself, I stamp my foot down on the floor, quite forgetting that there were pedals there. The car jerked forward, and I was thrown back, breathless.
'Oh, shit!' I curse, and swerve wildly to the right.
'Rebecca!' Clive screams into my right ear, his screams surprisingly shrill.
'OH MY GOD!' I shriek, and a bright red stop sign loomed forward, and I swerve away just in time to avoid colliding with the sign. A loud screech tells me that the side of the car probably scraped the STOP sign, though. I hit several orange cones in quick succession, each banging on the windscreen, thumping in unison.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest, and the steering wheel takes on a life of it's own, twiddling itself.
'MAKE IT STOP!' Clive shouts, hands in the air. The whole car is juddering wildly up and down as it sails over speed bumps and road dividers.
'Holy hell!' the car hit's a dummy, and sand explodes around us.
'I CAN'T SEE!' Clive shrieks, panicked. 'GET THE SAND OFF!'
'I'm trying!!' I yell back desperately, and I quickly jam my foot on the brake pedal. For some odd reason, it doesn't work. The car is still speeding along. The carpark was quite large, so we weren't in danger of hitting any walls yet.
'Come on! You--stupid--blasted--pedal--' I grunt, and I discover that one of my heels jammed the gas pedal and it was now automatically pressing down on itself.
Of all the things…
Clive, beside me, was attempting to control the steering wheel, but instead the steering wheel was controlling his frail arms, jerking him round and around. 'Lord save us!'
To my horror, we were fast approaching a traffic light, and it was blinking in the distance, yellow light telling me to slow down.
'SLOW DOWN!' Clive screams.
'I CAN'T! WHY DON'T YOU TRY?' I bellow back, nearly unseating him. 'THE PEDAL'S JAMMED AND I CAN'T GET IT TO MOVE!'
'WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T GET IT TO MOVE! OH MY, WE'RE GOING TO DIE!' Clive clutches his face, clipboard tumbling away from his grasp. 'I HAVEN'T DONE ALL THE THINGS I WANTED TO! I HAVEN'T SLEPT WITH JAPANESE TWINS, I HAVEN'T WENT TO SNIPER SCHOOL…'
A loud, deafening screech rips through the air, and I duck, feeling as though my heart was going to jump out of my ribcage and run for its life. The aforementioned traffic light was ripped off, and it cart wheeled over the car before crashing down behind us. The windscreen was cracked in several places, making it even harder to see.
'HOLY MOTHER OF--' Clive hollers, grabbing me around my waist.
'Damn it!' we were headed for the edge of the parking lot, where an intimidating brick wall was waiting.
I bend down, ripping Clive's arms off me, and try to push the heel out of the way. My leg was still stuck.
There was only one thing left to do…
Nearly sobbing now, I give my stuck heel a sharp shove, and it breaks off with a loud crack. My piece of my heart broke off, too. They cost me two months of the money I made working as a shop assistant.
But no matter!
I throw the severed heel away, and Clive gives a loud 'OW' as it hits his bald head (his cap had flown off earlier). The car bounces up and down violently, and I hit my head on the ceiling of the car rather painfully.
I quickly jam my foot down as hard as I can on what I hope is the brake pedal. The car abruptly stops, jerking in front so forcefully that both of us are thrown in front, faces banging against the windscreen. The brick wall is but a foot away.
Clive and I sit down companionably there for a few more minutes, Clive with his glasses askew, and me mournfully cradling my broken shoe. We're both breathing and gasping very loudly and for some reason, the car is smoking, its vile smell surrounding us.
I turn towards Clive sheepishly.
'So, do I pass?'
Author's Note: Really hope you enjoyed it. Please read and review, I'd love it if you did. Reviews make rainbows appear in the sky and leprechauns dance around, showering gold upon us. No, really.