So-called First
I remember, the first adventure I wanted to set out for on my BMW was a short drive. It was to be along the ever-dangerous, always-trecherous highway. That was the ultimate first test I wanted to undertake so I could prove to myself that I was just about ready to drive. That was the ultimate ordeal: to be where the danger was. To see drivers cutting other drivers. To hear the annoyed honking of cars. To look into the eyes of daredevil civilians who cross the street without giving a moment’s thought to their own safety—or to the heart condition of the drivers behind the wheels of the cars they dash in front of so fearlessly.
My palms were sweating. I kept having this urge to curl my toes and turn off the engine. A moment before I entered the highway, I took a deep breath and told myself I was ready for the experience. After all, I had taken driving lessons for weeks. I know all there is to know about the things I should do and things I shouldn’t. I had a license. I was a legally qualified entity. And besides, I’d even practiced how to say a few curses in front of the mirror in the event of someone making a pest out of himself. Indeed, I thought I couldn’t be more ready than I actually was at that moment.
In the end, though, the whole drive lasted for no more than twenty minutes and proceeded without any of the misfortunes I had imagined so clearly, so vividly that I was more than a little disappointed. So much for my first adventure.
