Driving class 1-Aug 22

The driver’s seat of a car is not one of the places I traditionally find myself in, since I am one of those people who are mechanically retarded. Hence, I tend to leave driving to the experts, namely hubby dear or sundry friends kind enough to offer me a lift.

Thanks to hubby dear being laid up for 6 weeks and being neither a toddler nor a geriatric, I was the one arm-twisted into learning how to drive the family car.

Wednesday morning, after the requisite prayers to Lord Ganesh to keep me and the other souls unfortunate enough to be on the road the same time as I from harm; I landed at the driving school for my very first class.

Fifteen minutes later, and some 2000 odd rupees poorer, I found myself in a white Santro attending what was euphemistically called “Theory Class” of my driving lessons.

After ascertaining my linguistic abilities in the local languages, my driver began explaining the mysteries of a car engine to me. He first taught me the basics; A for accelerator, B for Brake, C for clutch and was threatened with dire consequences should I forget.

All I remember of the lesson was that a dynamo “translates” energy to a battery. And that the “Wifer” should not be run when there is dust on the windshield.

After a mind boggling array of facts were slipped past me at the speed of light, I was allowed to go home. And boy, was I glad the ordeal was over for the day!!!