I woke up this morning all of a quiver. You see, after weeks and months of planning, I had my first ever driving lesson. How would I best sum up the experience? Well, I would say it was a classic case of … knocking knees and perfecting the figure of 8!!!

As a proud and perhaps now dated metrosexual (it is often used to refer to heterosexual men who are perceived to be effeminate rather than strictly adhering to stereotypical masculinity standards), I’ve never really been into cars. Lets just say I’ve never got aroused at hearing the LOUD revving of an engine. The only cars that have got me that way inclined are seeing BRIGHT PINK ones ha ha.

However, earlier this year I had something of a conversion regarding cars. It was a bit like when it suddenly dawned on me in my early 30s, just what a genius Bruce Springsteen is afterall (this after years of me thinking his music was a right bore). Yep, it just came to me in a flash, that learning to drive was going to be my next personal challenge.

It would give me more freedom both personally and professionally speaking. No more walking home in the blooming rain from work I thought. No more taxis or bus rides. I could end up going to see my best mate at Liverpool whenever I wanted. All of sudden, I was now envious of people that could drive.

Let’s not beat around the bush either, up to this point in my life I have never been able to afford driving lessons or face the prospect of buying a car. That was the easy bit though, now I had to put my desire into action.

First, I bought the latest edition of The Highway Code, and read it cover to cover (like the swot I’ve always been). Trying to find an instructor though was going to prove much harder than I thought.

I must have emailed and contacted via social media, about eight instructors/car schools all without success. The waiting lists were almost a year, or they didn’t cover my area, or didn’t do weekends. I got my provisional, but it looked like the wait for lessons would be very long.

Then, to my shock, about three weeks ago I got a text saying lessons were now available in my area and in an automatic car…GULP BUT BINGO, SCARY, SCARY BINGO!

So, today was my first lesson. I was a mixture of excited but scared as I waited for the instructor to pick me up … mainly scared though at the end hahahaha. Would it all go okay OCD wise I fretted? Would I like the instructor? Should I really be putting myself through this I pondered?

The answer, my friends, is a big YES! Yes, I was terribly nervous as we drove off, but it was too late to pull out now. Afterall, as my comedy hero Del Boy says, “HE WHO DARES” ha. 

The instructor was a great friendly guy, I instantly warmed to him. He even mentioned how nice I smelt, he was right I always do hahahaha, but it was still nice to hear. He also said I didn’t look 47, he was right again #modestAndy hahaha.  Anyway, let’s get down to the lesson.

As a complete novice, I started with the basics. The first 45 mins was all about me learning about the interior of the car and looking in my mirrors. I learnt all about blind spots … and then my knees started knocking, cos I was told I’d be driving the car soon (in a big car park).

It went really well. I’m pleased to report that I was soon checking my mirrors and blind spots without being told, doing big turns, and perfecting laps of a figure of 8 … just call me Nigel Mansell hahaha!

Let’s not tell lies though, I did make a few errors. I was amazed how sensitive the breaks and acceleration (gas) pedals were. We came to a shuddering halt a few times (eek), but I’d never even sat in the driver seat of a car before, let alone driven one. Modestly, I’d give myself a good 8/10 for effort … and I’ve always struggled being modest ha ha. Oh and I reached 11 mph for one fleeting moment, it felt like 111 mph though ha ha ha.

As the lesson wore on, I bonded more with the instructor. I told him about my prostate cancer scare battles in my 20’s. How my life had been blighted for many years with crippling OCD… but how now both were tonnes better. He was empathetic and very understanding, just as I’d hoped he would be.

The two hours flew by and before I knew it, I was walking through my home front door.  I was relieved it had gone so well. I instantly got on WhatsApp telling my nearest and dearest how it had all gone. I hate people saying, ‘I’m so proud of myself’ (bigheads I always think), BUT I SINCERELY WAS! 

In my OCD recovery journey, it was another box ticked for sure. In my life journey, it was another step forward. Knocking knees and perfecting the figure of 8, I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD IT ANY OTHER WAY!