My Sad Corner of Earth

what makes driving fun . . .

If you've never driven . . . well, you probaly have driven, so I can pretty much skip that bit. But I can say, with comletel certainty, that what makes driving fun is your parents.
Earlier this week, I went out sriving. It was not the first time I had ever driven. I had driven two hours before that, not to count the hour I spent in the parking lot at the local community college. My father took me, and it was the first time I had ever driven with him sitting beside me. He was exceptionally nervous. He drove me over to my high school, and then we switched.
I hope it was not simple underestimation of my driving skills that made my father tell me to drive around the parking lot for an HOUR. Otherwise I would have to say it was my own realy ineptitude that made him say it.
After continually yelling at me to looke behind my shoulders when I backed up (instead of glancing or looking vaguely to the right), and doing about five three-point turns, parking thrice, going around the bus circle about ten times . . . after all of that, my father let me go onto the road. Glory! thought I. I can drive on a road I drove on last week (I might add that I drove it without incident).
I made a left and was informed that I ought to turn left again, into the nearest neighborhood. I proceeded to drive around the neighborhood for another hour! Does this not sound fun?
Oh well . . . 2 hours down, 48 more to go.