My parents didn’t have a car. I grew up in Russia, and over there cars used to be more of a luxury than necessity. So I successfully avoided what every young person here in Canada does – learning how to drive. Years went by and neither necessity nor opportunity to do so appeared in my life. My husband has been driving me to work, I would take public transit or a cab when needed. Life was good.
And then my husband changed his job. The new place is downtown as opposed to his old place which was 5 minutes away from my work in the West End of Toronto. Another important fact that adds more drama to the story is that we live in Mississauga. So you get the idea – driving is killing him. I know, some people commute from Hamilton, or Markham, or Milton. I know, but that doesn’t help. Driving is killing him. As a wife who doesn’t want to become a widow too early, I decided to learn to drive in order to take some stress off him. And here is the best part – the car that I am learning to drive is
made out of gold manual. Just learning to drive at the age of 31 is challenging (Did I just say out loud my age?) is very challenging. Learning to drive manual is 10 times more challenging.
Drivers in Canada are very polite as long as you start the car the second the traffic light turns green. When you don’t, they honk. That stresses you out even more, you stall the car, they honk, you stall, they honk.. arg! The only thing that makes it somewhat bearable is my husband’s patience. I’m pretty sure he is Buddha’s reincarnation, and that Dalai Lama should pay him a visit. He is infinitely patient with me when I panic, swear, and cry, all within 15 minutes of driving. I personally know a lot of women who drive manual. They survived. I will too.