71. Driving lesson (3)

Same question, asked with palpable nervous tension.

'How did it go?'

'Not that well. ... I did not knock anyone over and I did not hit any poles, nor drove into any walls.'

'Good. Making progress then.'

'And today I learned something.'

'Excellent!' 

The tension is easing. I have been stressed out about nothing really. Typical motherly attitude. Her dad is not worried. Her dad thinks she will pass. But then again is her dad having these post-driving-lesson chats? I need to congratulate her here, be encouraging and supportive (that old parenting guide again).

'See! Things do get better. Always. You just have to be patient and persevere. ... Tell me, what did you learn?'

'I learned something so useful! I am glad the instructor told me: you have to put your heel down on the floor when you are driving!'

The tension is back. In fact it is turning into unsustainable stress. The feeling that there is something at some point in the life of my child that I have missed, some basic thing I have overlooked. You have got to agree, such a feedback is not quite normal. How can you change gear with your foot up in the air, hovering over the pedal just in case? I must be getting it wrong.

'What do you mean by that?'

'Well, you know, when you are driving and you are changing gear? Well, I was keeping my foot up in the air and lifting my leg - from the thigh - when I needed to use the clutch. It is tiring, I was getting cramps and the movement is not very smooth if you do it that way. So now that's sorted, it is not so tiring on my leg.'

I am gobsmacked: no other way to put it. But she continues, unawares of how weird this is to us normal beings.

'My instructor pointed out that I was not leaving my heel down on the floor of the car. She said: "Are you daft or what, girl? Keep that heel of yours down on the floor and press that pedal gently!" So I started to look down at my feet and at the pedals and so did she, and then I looked up and the light was red! Nearly crashed into the car in front. I did a superb emergency stop. An other one! But this time she was not pleased. She was livid, she shouted at me that I was stupid and that she would have to ask for extra time off after my lessons, and how many lessons would I need and she went totally berserk, like ... she freaked out. I mean, after all, I am a learner, like ... you know a school kid almost.'

I was at a loss for words. I inwardly repeated what I'd told her a couple of minutes ago: "Things do get better. Always. You just have to be patient and persevere."

And at the same time, a memory of her driving bumper cars at the village funfair and it just suddenly made sense. Well, almost!