So I went driving...a car...a REAL car...for the first time yesterday, when my dad surprised me by saying if I wanted a ride to our ward building for the fireside we had, I had to drive. I was completely nervous (if you're surprised by this, you don't know me that well...or haven't been in, say, a golf cart or something that moves with/around me), but anyways, I backed out of the driveway, surprisingly not hitting any of the cars in it. Going down our street towards 24th, I actually found a good speed, so that went OK. And though I had a little trouble stopping before 24th, I didn't die (of course you probably guessed that, from the fact I am, you know, typing this...). Then came the big, scary street. I turned onto 24th, and due to my horribleness at pressing down on the gas pedal, I probably turned onto it at about 60 or so MPH. Yeah, my dad was freaked out, I was freaked out, and if the car that was about 10 seconds away was paying any attention, they were probably freaked out too. I tried to slow down, but ended up kind of stopping in the road...thankfully, pointed toward where I was supposed to go. I put my foot on the gas quickly again, and I somehow survived the 10 or 15 seconds to the church parking lot.
You know, that bicycle is looking better and better...hopefully I'll get used to driving soon. Or hire a chauffeur. Or something...
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