357. Driving (again) (3)

 'Deal done.'

I put the phone down. 

'All right.' I can tell he was impressed and pleased about the miracle solution; it meant Muddy Boots would be off our backs. And that was a relief believe me.

'One weekend.'

'One weekend.'

That was very tight indeed. Especially if you assessed Miss Muddy Boots's driving skills in all honesty. I even read the driving lesson posts and the story of the bumper cars almost made me scream NO, let's buy her a microcar. An electric bike. A tractor. Or a horse. I wasn't sure. 

So 1,400 kilometres later, both of them (I stayed behind, for once almost happy to have to go to work) arrived at the farm. Jeannot announced with some pride that the car started first time, and he even drove it to the garage for the MOT. Long talks about the condition and the whole 30-year history while walking around it and (gently) kicking the tyres to see ... to see what? if they're going to fall off?

Papers filled in, signed and exchanged, and all was good to go. The moment had come when Miss Muddy Boots had to sit behind the wheel and drive. Because on Sunday afternoon she would have to drive 300 km ON HER OWN and then on Monday morning get herself to work. Tension was in the air.

'She can't drive!' I had never heard my husband sound like that, was he panicking? 

'What do you mean she can't drive? She's got a driving licence!' I said, offended in so little faith in our national driving school system.

'But she can't! Honestly1 From the barn to the house she stalled the car 4 times! 4 times in what 300 meters?'

A horse sounded more and more like a good idea. A donkey even. Then I pulled myself together. And thought I should erase all these blog posts about real cars and bumper cars and driving school cars. 

'You just need time. Just get her to drive round and round the village. She's bound to get it eventually. I mean everybody can do it. It's not that hard.' And surely she is not that useless behind a wheel? 

My husband thought this was an excellent idea. 

'OK. I'll call you back when she gets it.'

I wondered briefly what the local farmers would think about Jeannot's R21 driving round and round. Maybe they'd think he had suddenly gone completely nuts and call the mobile psychiatric unit.

And I wondered how long I would have to wait for the phone call to come.