More driving lessons

I don't care how many freaking driving lessons I have to take, someday this will be me, dammit! All of it, including the blond hair, the convertible and perky little straw hat.

All that's stopping me from living my own stock photography road trip fantasy is the lack of driver's license. Did I mention I'm 31? Yeah, it's sad, but so far the inconvenience of living without a license has been completely dwarfed by expense and SHEER TERROR AND HORROR of learning to drive. Driving is hard. There's, like, eight million things happening at once and if you screw up, very bad things can happen. I don't understand. I know for a fact that there are a lot of stupid people out there. Anyone who's worked retail for five minutes knows that. Yet all these people can drive, while I'm still trying to master the right turn.

Apparently there is a happy medium between turning out into the oncoming lane and riding the curb. Or so they say. I have my doubts.

Sigh. Two more lessons over the next two weeks, combined with a bunch last year. And some when I was 20. Eventually I'll figure it out. I can't not. Not because I need to drive -I walk to work, live near downtown, carry my groceries home from the story- but because I'm just too embarrassed to keep up this learning-to-drive shoit.