337. Driving

 ‘I think I will get my driving licence first time.’ Baby says.

We are driving along in the pink car. I am driving - obviously - and Baby is doing the gears.

‘Do you remember doing that? In the desert? Dad used to let you. You’d sit in the middle, where there was no real seat and dad used to get you to do the gears?’

‘I can still do it.’ Baby shouts.

‘Second!’ I shout. And yes, she can still do it. I drive like this until we reach a huge round-about and there are police cars everywhere. 

‘I will pass it first time. Don’t worry mum.’

I negotiate the huge round about like a pro. The French police never daring to stop an English registered pink car. 

‘I mean anyway my sisters just get so stressed up about this. Remember at the fair?’

We both burt out laughing.

‘That was so funny! The guy was parking the bumper cars and then bump! My sister drove into the car and he fell over it. And then when he got himself safe on the car behind but then she reversed and knocked hil over again! … Dad and Pete were killing themselves over laughing their heads off! That was so funny.’

Baby has quit doing the gears because she is laughing out so loud.

‘Then he thought I’m safe and moved over and then the car hit him a third time. Miss Organiser was so embarrassed, she was yelling at Muddy Boots to let go of the wheel and let her do the driving.’

Then we hot a demonstration and we have to slow right down. 

‘Sharp right mum!’

The wheels screech and the little pink car swerves tight right. I feel I am in a movie. We are now in a residential area and I am completely lost. 

‘Look, it is the swimming pool over there. See it?’

I cannot see anything so I give myself away to Baby.

‘Second.’ … ‘ First.’

Baby does the gears as she used to when she was not even six years old except this time we are not just having fun in the dunes, we are trying to get to the shops.

A police car appears round the corner, light and sirens on.

‘Where to, Baby?’ I scream.

‘Straight on! Go Mum go! Come on! Fourth gear!’

Definitely feeling like in a movie.

‘Fourth. Now.’

The little pink car roars and speeds up with all its might.

‘Right. Now.’

I turn right and wave the police car good bye. Screech go the tyres. 

‘Second. First.’

‘Black point.’ Baby shouts.

I break, stop and look around. We are in the car park of the garden enter and it is almost empty.

‘Black point is not the accurate wording. Neutral is. Learn that to pass.’

And off we go shopping.