Behind the wheels...

The title sort of explains what I do at driving school...sit behind the wheels. Thats it, the moment I ever so much as try to steer the vehichle or even touch the accelerator a torrent of the most fluent malayalam floods my ears, most of which i can't and really don't want to understand. I wonder if the woman knows my history with manipulating modes of conveyance.
My earliest memory includes my roller blades and me hurtling right into my fat instructors heaving 50th-anniversary-of beer-drinking-belly. The memory of that event haunts me to this day. In most of my abduction-by-freakin-aliens nightmares, green,blue or red, the aliens always had a disproportionate belly.
For most children cycling is a relatively simple affair involving imbalance and a few falls at the beginning. Nooo! The Zog is different. Besides starting trouble, the Zog simply cannot cycle straight. no-o. The Zog requires acres of leeway on either side, in front and at the back. Besides ramming into the side-walk every now and then. A million twisted ankles later, someone took mercy on her and stole her cycle.
I thought i could get away with being a pedestrian for the rest of my life. But it was not to be. For a woman to survive in the world today, she has to know how to drive. All other means of transport are unsafe. When is it that my dad started approving of suicide I wonder?
Okie so I try learning how to ride the scooter first. My 13 year old cousin is my official guru. And his Activa the test vehichle. We try in the gully between our house and his. Hah! I can do this it's easy. I beam at everyone around me. Thats when he let go.
I ram into the wall on the left. I want to stop the monster from running up the wall but my hand refuses to let go of the accelerator OR clutch the brake. There I was my hand acting like it had a mind of it's own just poised to kill me. But help was at hand and I didn't land up on the other side as I imagined.(Yes I am capable of thinking up such absurdities. If you watch cartoon network after you reach a certain age, it happens)
Next stop driving school. Man this place is a whole new dimension. The car they use doesn't have a single part thats actually still in working condition and the female refuses to let you touch anything for fear you find out. Man these losers! To make things worse the woman imagines the extended history of her and her family is of vital interest to all her students. So there she goes yappety-yap on your left while you sit behind the wheel trying really hard to touch anything that makes the baby move.
What really beats me is her reverse concept. She totally insists on making us do it in this old guy's lawn when he's looking. Soon enough it rains tea on me as he sprays every possible abuse at us in the middle of the road. The female is...a female. She keeps screaming back. When both of them are done, I feel seriously disoriented and to top it she tells me,"Tomorrow we'll turn here itself. That old fool should learn a lesson." Ouch!
H-classes on wednesdays are a nightmare. Suddenly there's a guy teaching me who actually expects me to drive. And we are expected to do so in a trekker. And I'm 5 ft tall. Sitting on the edge of the seat I can barely make it to the brake or the clutch or anything. The accumulated strength of 10 Zogs cannot get the gear to change or the stearing wheel to turn. At the end of it all I feel like my arms have been cut off. Oh well...
I've 5 days to my license test and I still have'nt got to touch the steering....oh well...the guy would be smart if he didn't pass me.The way things are now I'm on the way to becoming the serial road killer.