My wife, who is now auto-correcting me from over my shoulder, has had plenty of experience in the realms of accidents. She is reading my blog now and accusing me of telling her a lie for over twenty-five years. The ‘little white lie’ is concerning my recent admission that it took my two attempts to pass the test.
I would be lying if I said that this was my first car. I wish it had been. But my car was a Ford Escort Mark 2 and, for a time, it was my stallion of the roads.
Coming from a non-car owning family meant that I was not accustomed to the ease and freedom four wheels could provide. As a family, we would only have days out if a bus-route passed somewhere near there. In actual fact, we rarely had family days out; well, not the full family.
I was the first person in my immediate family to learn to drive. My father gained his licence some years later. I was the pioneer of this new found freedom. I took my driving lessons with a company called Impact. It didn’t bode well and I did need two goes to pass, but when I did, the world opened up. London…
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