After 45 years learning to drive, Jennifer Florance has finally given up – and she’s never been happier
I can’t drive. Not ‘I don’t drive’, ‘I haven’t got a car’ or ‘I would rather not drive’. I really can’t drive. Now that I’m looking back it doesn’t seem such a big deal, but in the ’70s driving was the Holy Grail for young people and not driving was almost as bad as not being able to read. When I turned 17, learning to drive seemed as if it would be a doddle. ‘Ten lessons should do it,’ my driver friends hooted enthusiastically. Alan, my first instructor, took me out in his immaculate Mini and invited me to get behind the wheel. We jumped up the road for a bit. Twenty minutes later, we stopped. Alan unglued my rigid hands from the steering wheel and I tried to relax my toes which had plaited themselves in knots of agonising cramp. Alan, smiling but a bit rigid, assured me that...
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