On boosts, blasts, boogie & bogus (or as it's more commenly called: driving)

So, let's start this by a simple pros & cons list of today.

On the good side of the news: I was forced to drive on the highway this afternoon, and I didn't kill anybody or freak out (too much). Highway's actually easy.

On the bad side, I still can't drive. In fact, I so can't drive that I jammed the engine right after getting off the highway. Because I had to stop and couldn't start properly again. Also, I jammed the engine repeatedly on my way to the highway, the most memorable time right before getting on the Opvelp crossroad. I mean right before. I must have spent at least 10 minutes, if not a quarter of an hour turning on the engine, trying to start, jamming the engine, and starting again. About 5 minutes into this process, of course somebody came up behind me and stood there waiting, which of course had me überstressed. And he just stood there, waiting, while I was just jamming and re-jamming the engine under the Sunday afternoon sun. And he waited, and I got frustrated, and my dad watched incredulously, wondering how it was possible to jam an engine that many times. In the end daddy got out of the car and went to stand in the middle of the crossroad, looking at me with an 'air' of defiance, like 'drive-over-if-you-dare' style.

And then, of course, I started and got over the crossroad, to the top of the hill, without jamming. Tears of fucking frustration, people. Dad walks overs, hands in his pockets, cocky smirk plastered all over his face. I get out of the car. He shouts: "Oh no you don't!" and then "Tu vois quand tu veux!" La ferme, merde.

"Grmbl mumble stumble..."

"What?"

"I said 'I don't want to go on the highway'."

"Why?"

Well, for obvious reasons, whaddaya think?

"Highway's easy! Straight line! You do just the same, only thing is it goes quicker."

Oh, right, because that's really reassuring, Papa.

Damn guy thinks he's always right. Even shittier: most of the time, he is.

So this time again, yes. 

Also, we didn't go out driving just to drive. We had to pick up my brother who was waiting on a carpool parking. And he waited. With a friend. And he saw me jam the engine, what, 10 times, like 300 m away from the damn parking? Nicely humiliating, just what one needs on a Sunday afternoon.

Dad drove us home, making a point of explaining virtually everything that's going on inside the car every time you touch a lever, push a pedal, punch a button or turn the wheel. Once we were home he threw my brother out (well, kinda) and took me out into Bierbeek's fields, randomly shouting 'Stop! Gently.' to have me do emergency stops & starts without jamming the engine. Operation's success: about 50%.

Next step, parking.

Yeah, well let's talk about that later, okay? 

As dad says "You're not actually supposed to leave half of the car on the road when you do that. And watch out for my scooter."