358. Driving (again) 4

 It was like watching the kettle boil waiting for this phone to ring and someone to tell me that my daughter was able to drive round and round the village.

'It's tough. Really tough.' My husband said. 

'What do you mean tough?' I said, my voice sounding panicky now. I was thinking about all these lessons we had paid for and she couldn't even drive around the village. It is not even a village, it is a hamlet, a few houses, zero shops, zero bus stops, nothing. 

'Well, she can't drive drive. It's as simple as that. She can't drive.' Now I'm sounding panicky and he's sounding desperate. It must be really bad. I've never heard my husband sounding desperate. 

'I might have to drive her to Lyon and then she can just sort something out. And then we'll do an other weekend.'

'It can't be that bad! Anybody can drive a car. She just. has to keep driving. Keep driving around the village.'

'She keeps stalling and then she wonders why and then I notice she has the hand break on and then she accelerates and then jumps on the breaks because there's a chicken there in the middle of the road and ...'

I have to stop his rambling on. 

'I don't think that is a good idea to drive her there. She has to learn, keep her driving all day.'

'Yes. You're right. I'll draw up a plan of action.' 

The situation is trickier than I thought and my miracle solution seems to have triggered a cascade of problems. Still I managed to get my husband's hopes back up and I fell a little sorry for Muddy Boots having to follow the 'plan of action'.

Two and a half days of intense driving later, after a whole morning driving aimlessly on a motorway,  Miss Muddy Boots was strapped in the R21 with all her luggage in the very roomy boot and off she went heading North and then East into the unknown. A thousand recommendations, an old GPS stuck on the screen (phone at the bottom of the bag in the boot and strict orders to call the minute she was safely parked somewhere - hopefully at her destination.

'There's nothing else I can do. She's on her own now.'