Oct. 23rd, 2008

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Just come from a driving lesson. Reversing round a corner wasn't too bad, though at the end I was told to use the main mirror as my guide not rely on the side one. The turn in the road would have been OK if I hadn't made the mistake of thinking that, once you've raised your clutch to the bite in readiness for the second leg of the manoeuvre, you can push the clutch down a little, as I have done on ordinary moves to insure against letting it come up too high and cause me to stall. I found out that tactic doesn't work on turns in the road when I took the handbrake off and immediately began rolling forward towards the kerb. Of course, stepping on the gas pedal made no difference, and I had to stop the car and resume the manoeuvre in the middle, not an ideal way to absorb.

The open road driving was satisfactory, until the very end when I was told to park in the parking spaces along our street. I was manoeuvring into the spot at the very end of the row when Peter announced that I'd missed it (I thought I was on target) and got me to reverse in order to come in at a better angle. Possibly because my brain was already in 'lesson ended' mode, having reversed outward to the right, I did my old trick of coming off the clutch while still on the brake and came to a dead stop. Morale shattered, my pulling into the parking bay was an utter shambles. After what hadn't been a bad lesson all round, and after six months, to end like that was damn dispiriting.

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The Man Who Loves Laura Bassett

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