I’m 42.  I think, that I could have learned to drive when I was 17 in the UK, maybe 16 (it would have been 1987 or 1988).  Tomorrow is when I’m actually going to start learning to drive.  I have my first ever driving lesson booked.

So yes, I’m about 26 years late, but I guess it’s finally time.  As a kid, after the age of 4, our family never had a car, so I grew up using the bus or my bike, or walking, everywhere.  When I went to university, no one had a car, and I certainly never had the money to learn to drive.  Then, after I left and got jobs, I never felt like it was critical, and I relied on a lot of friends to drive me to work.

When myself and Grete first got together, Grete had already had quite a few lessons, we needed one of us to pass, didn’t have much money, and so we agreed she had the best chance.  She did pass, and she’s been driving us everywhere since, with skill, patience and well, even more patience.

I mooted the idea of learning a couple of years ago, and Grete got my provisional license sorted out (basically, I’m rubbish without her).  I’d had it since I was 17 (wishful thinking), but never updated the address, and then the whole complexity of that got to me.  Anyway, even with the sorted license, I still didn’t do anything about the driving.

This year though, it just seems right.  After all, I’m 42.  And 42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything.