whiplash.

Though I've had my license for a mere month (remember this post), I feel like I've experienced well over 31 days worth of driving experience. My story telling skills are from from Newmans. In fact, they are worse than that of a three year old with a stutter. But these stories are worth my very best attempts, so here it goes.

The very first day I received my license, I drove small children on the freeway. I now have a higher respect for minivan moms. (the ones who you hate driving in proximity to because they are swerving all over the place because heaven knows the road is not their priority. They're generally nursing a child, cleaning up spilled milk and talking on the phone all while going 60 mph getting their kid to piano lessons and back in time for their visiting teaching appointment.) Now I know how difficult it is to drive small children.

The second day I drove my friend and myself to the haunted forest. Stick shift and during a storm might I add. Of course I didn't know how to turn on the windshield wipers. It's a problem when you're going 80 mph. My friend was screaming the whole way. I sang primary songs.

Now, here's where the three weeks of me having my license lead up to. Two days after my lovely sister lends me her car might I add. I was just cruising along, listening to some 89.1 because I'm classy, 27 mph, because of my newly found police paranoia, self diagnosed. I was waiting patently to turn left. Commonly known fact: I HATE TURNING LEFT!!!! The minutes ticked away as I waited. 1...2....3......4......okay, I can go now. Or so I assumed. I turned. And WAM! BAM! BONG! I screamed so loud, I woke Marie Curie up from the dead. I sat there stunned as another car zoomed right in front of me, luckily it was a male driver and they had the skills to swerve out of the way and avoid hitting me directly. We pulled over to the side and assessed the damage. There was a lot of it. I repeat, with even more exclamation marks: I HATE TURNING LEFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Two days later, car is drivable so I'm driving. I'm now so cautious I make even Nephi look wild. Blinker on, check blind spot, check surroundings, check blind spot again, turn right. I'm going 24 mph. Just to be safe. Extra, extra safe. In my rearview mirror I see swirling red and blue lights. My stomach drops into my butt. Officer walks over and he asked for my license and registration. I told him I didn't know where the registration was, I had just gotten this car. "Okay, ma'am do you know why I pulled you over?" It stresses me out when people call me ma'am. I gave it a long hard thought. "No Officer, I honestly have no idea, I though I was driving very safely." He smiled and told me I was being a safe driver. Turns out, being pulled over wasn't my fault. The car wasn't registered. He and my mom had a nice long chat on the phone and I complimented him on his tie. Then I drove home, barely passing 20 mph. Turns out some stories do have happy-ish endings.

Driving is the worst. We should all just own a horse and buggy. It sure would simplify my life, cars make my hair turn gray. Me and cars are like Santa and the Easter bunny, we just don't get along.