Rus Articles Journal

How the husband taught me to drive the car?

In sense of a driver`s experience I am still young - two years driving. And this experience - fiction as alone I was never driving yet. And those times that went with the husband, can be counted on fingers. And who is guilty? You think, I or the husband? No, it is guilty. Our car. BMW of the seventh model, it is dark - blue color, a mechanical box, 1989 of release. Sounds as if I sell it.

my Problem consists that after receiving by me the husband zealously is right undertook to train me in driving on the method, than absolutely discouraged at me to take the wheel in general the following ritual which sense is not clear to me up to the end still.

Every time before, actually, getting into the car, to start the motor, to warm up it and to go, it was necessary to do the following manipulations with car: for a start just thoughtfully few times to bypass around the car. To remove from it the attacking leaves, blades and motes. To open the car and a cowl. Further there was a ceremony it is similar to exile of a devil - liquid level in four capacities under a cowl was checked. Under a cowl the special dirty rag was stored to soil hands (on my strong belief). One baklazhka meant oil level, I remembered. Were checked amount of liquid which washes a windshield, the level of brake fluid and water level in the capacity cooling a radiator. Correctly?

Results of researches were slowly and carefully sniffed and investigated. It became painfully boring to drive the car to me already at this stage. I understand that it is necessary procedures how an enema before childbirth, but to make their once a week? It really so often needs to be done every time how you see the car? Whether it is simpler to write every time on a wheel how a doggie on a column?

Further everything was even more terrible. It was necessary to open a luggage carrier and the device which is stored there, to measure pressure in all wheels. To be verified with the plate at a forward door in which it is specified what quantity of the atmospheres has to make pressure in back and forward tires. Pressure in wheels should have been given to an ideal by means of inflating by the above-stated priborchik to within the one tenth atmosphere. A leg it was necessary to swing, fortunately, nothing, this device was connected to the car in the lighter and itself rumbled.

Only on completion of all this difficult procedure it was possible to go to a way. I emphasize - business was in the summer. In the winter the situation was complicated also by cleaning of snow from the car. Thus, in my consciousness the impression was created that autodriving - the difficult and confused thing already at a preliminary stage.

When, at last, ritual was executed up to the end and it was possible to go, it turned out that all above was only warm-up to the real mockeries (or to driving instruction, whom as it is pleasant). When training me in driving the husband could not but go into two extremes. In a condition of the first phase he was supervigilant and very disturbing, groaned “Brake!“ before each crack in asphalt. Muttered on each turn: “Well where you twist a wheel, you overwind it“, probably, being afraid that I will break the power steering (here what words I know!) . He uneasily rolled out legs on a floor, vainly searching for a pedal of a brake or coupling there. It was uncomfortable to be with this fussy being in salon, it is almost impossible to drive the car.

Other extreme consisted that the husband, knowing that driving today I, dared to drink an excess small bottle of beer. The picture was absolutely other - the husband, having collapsed on a front seat, roared as a bison: “Give to gas! Cut it! Show it who on the road main!“ At the same time I, the beginning diffident driver, wagging on the road and being confused in transfers, fatally was afraid to disperse quicker than forty kilometers per hour. Having seized a wheel, I least of all wished someone to prove who on the road main, vaguely guessing that it definitely not I. Huge BMW laughed over me together with the husband, did not answer the helm, sharply started and braked or unexpectedly became deaf. For couple of lessons of driving I got a nervous tic and panic horror in front of car.

As the following grade level me to it difficult to art of driving of the car the husband chose the next day off, my state (pregnancy plus quinsy with a temperature of 38 degrees), filled full salon of personal and others` children (that I did not relax, probably) and set a course - a zoo. For ignorant - during week-end in the summer in our zoo there are two thirds of residents of our city. Traffic jams, a heat, lack of a parking lot is included in the ticket price in a zoo. On the way to a zoo the husband was in a condition of the first extreme, on the road back - the second is able. I will tell frankly - to me this trip did not add love to cars. I grew old for five years, began to hate a zoo, children, people and, once again, BMW.

Things are right where they started. I move by a taxi. At night I quietly and mournfully dream of small Toyota Corsa or Vitz, with the automatic transmission and a fluffy wheel. That it was green as apple. I am afraid of immense BMW whose borders I do not feel and which roars also loudly, as well as my husband and, probably, as a bison. Sincerely I believe that the husband spent a heap of forces and nerves that I though somehow did not dishonor his gray hair on the road. From his point of view, I am in general a mad blonde who considers that she best and best of all knows and is able on the road, and not only there.

To tell on conscience, indeed. Sometimes I directly - do not know where to put the umishche. Here, wrote this article.