article_snippet.sent: Perhaps it’s the fact that I learnt to drive in Italy, where every other driver is either a drunk or a lunatic, but I never take my eyes off the road.
article_snippet.sent: Driving for me is not just a means for getting from A to B, it’s a destination in it, an exercise in judgment and quick-thinking.
article_snippet.sent: On the morning school run, I take great delight in achieving just the right degree of acceleration at just the right time, so that I catch a run of green lights and never end up trapped in the wrong lane.
article_snippet.sent: I scoff at those who drive with those who drive with their eyes on the satnav instead of on the tarmac eyes on the satnav instead of on the tarmac.
article_snippet.sent: On motorways, I check my wing and rear view mirrors every few seconds, to make sure I am at all times aware of other vehicles around me.
article_snippet.sent: I switch lanes constantly for speed and safety —
article_snippet.sent: and yes, I am one of those people who drives up behind you as you’re cruising half asleep in the fast lane and flashes their lights.
article_snippet.sent: It’s the fast lane, guys, the clue is in the name.
article_snippet.sent: They’re far too jittery, and They seem to misunderstand the fundamental principle of bumpers, which is that They are for bumping.
article_snippet.sent: I’m extremely proud of my ability to parallel park in the tiniest of places.
article_snippet.sent: Which is why my poor husband, who went to immense lengths to obtain his licence after the children were born, never gets a look in.
article_snippet.sent: I pretend it’s because I don’t trust ’s driving (it took ’s seven attempts to pass ’s test).
article_snippet.sent: I have a full, clean driving licence.