I’m having driving lessons. I had my third one this week–and my heartless, sorry, helpful driving instructor continues to convince me that I’m hurtling towards metal-flavoured death at high speeds. Well, 30mph. This time, he made me go round the notoriously evil roundabout in the middle of town. Twice.
You think I’m kidding about the evil part, by the way? I’m very not. I have it on good authority that this particular roundabout gets up in the middle of the night and goes and stomps on people’s garden gnomes, before stealing babies’ teddy bears from their cots as they sleep. So yeah.
Anyway: this week–the dizzy heights of third gear (yay!). And to celebrate, I’ve been looking for a car.
I want this one.
Yes. That one.
I’ll never go anywhere, but it sure as hell can boogie.