the poet's experience of driving test and cars ...

Geraldine your anecdotes about driving reminded of the time I passed my
driving test, which was for all concerned a miracle. I am sure somewhere in
the New Dead Sea Scrolls there will be mention of this. Onthe day I had a
practice drive with my instructor in preparation for the test. Somehow I
managed to mount the curb, almost knock someone off a bicycle and went
everywhere at 40 mph --little did I know that this is how everyone drives.
But based on that performance the driving instructor told me that I could
always try again after the test. Things did not look promising. The examiner
was of military bearing and did not smile at all. I however managed to do
everything correctly, but I got into the wrong lane --I knew that would be a
fail mark, but then out of the blue comes the worst motorbike rider known to
mankind, he was driving recklessly and swung close to the car --I took
avoidance measures, and I saw the instructor was very pleased, and relieved.
If that motorbike driver hadn't appeared --well I would still be pottering
about on the odd afternoon trying to improve my driving skills. My driving
instructor was so shocked by the result he actually interrogated the
examiner --and then concluded "that you must have taken drugs" .Following
that episoide I had to buy a car. My first car. What does the poet buy? The
infamous Renault 4TL. I'm sure someone will write a poem for that car. I
bought mine off a bastard who sold it to me in a university car park --took
the cash and left me with the car. I got in and was amazed by the
controls --everything was different, but the biggest shock was driving it
for about two miles and then hearing a sound like "Eliza there's a hole in
my bucket" and a gushing sound. I puttered home. And called the AA. The guy
came and looked under and found a rag, a stolen  hotel towel I believe, it
had been placed to plug a hole in the engine. The AA guy said something like
"Sir if this was a horse I'd shoot it to put it out of its misery". A friend
of mine decided upon hearing the news to swop one of his vauxhal vivas (an
old one) for the renault. I was so happy with the exchange --I loved that
car -the steering was off alignment, no heating, no radio, rust everywhere ,
but a wonderful engine, started in any temperature, and besides that I could
get parts from Gypsy Watts for next to nothing. It's end was not so nice. I
had parked it away from my house, as one of the neighbours had put a sign on
the window --if you don't ucking move that car I will kill you --
he actually murdered his mother some 16 months later! --good job I moved the
car. I parked it near the pub, the Stanley (Livingstone's Stanley --but then
changed to Laurel) --working on my computer one night. Knock on the door.
Two policemen. Sir is your car blah blah. It is. Well sir it has been
involved in an accident. I was told that someone had made a citizen's arrest
on an intoxicated (notorious burglar it turned out) no-driving licence, no
insurance, been rejected by his girlfriend, moron. My car was shunted into
two others. The damage was severe. I discovered that I would not get money
from the insurance companies --so I decided to go there and get it off him.
I discovered his house was boarded up and padlocked. I knocked on it, and
after a while this guy in his early fifties wearing a martial arts outfit
appears. He asks me "What do fucking want?" My response was to swear
back -but unfortunately it wasn't convincing as I left the "ng" on.  All I
got was a paper with his lawyer's address. The saga didn't end there. I had
to get a new car --but I had to get about --so I drove my insurance
write-off car with no MOT to look for a new car. Sure enough the police
stopped me and nabbed me. They always do. I got out and was furious. I took
them around to the back of the car and kicked it. Do you know who did that?
They shook their heads. It was blah blah. And then they laughed. Because of
that quick thinking I got the lowest fine possible --and during a court
session I saw my burglar friend waiting for another three cases. The car was
sold for scrap. Gypsy Watts thought I was nuts selling "such a beauty".

So what do other poet's drive now and did they learn to drive on tractors...



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