Yes, yes, it's back with the driving lessons. I drove to work today with my new driving instructor in a car the like of which I had never imagined myself on the inside of. (If I was Winston Churchill I could do that sentence without dangling bitties, but also without sense. But there it is. We can't all write as if we regretted the end of the Roman Empire, now can we? No. The like of which the inside of I had never imagined myself - you see, it's no good.)
The car had a rear spoiler, if you can imagine such a thing. And imagine me inside that car. And also driving it. I almost wish I was a seventeen year old boy so I could have sufficient fun out of it.
The driving was a somewhat less than entirely vile experience, so perhaps I'll be getting the hang of it yet. The man explained why it is that the clutch makes the car go, which was oddly helpful and also meant five minutes where I was not in charge of a ton of killer metal but sitting and listening quietly to explanations instead, which is something that I am good at. At which is something that I am good.