6/28/2011 - take the car and drive myself. . .

Last night, Sam let me borrow his car so I could go to my Rapid Transit rehearsal in Oakland.  As a snooty seasoned resident of the City, I hate going across the bridge, even more so when I don't have a car, made worse on Monday nights with rehearsals in the evening.  Rehearsals as a whole can be tiring--completely, unequivocally rewarding, but tiring all the same, especially when it happens across the bay.

Sam and Grr have been driving me to these Oakland rehearsals, and though they never seem to mind (I'm fairly certain Grr even enjoys it), I feel guilty singing my 'doon doon-bah-doons' while they're sitting in the car in the parking lot for two and a half hours.  So when Sam said that I could take the car and drive myself, I held back the excitement when I accepted.  Though he acted all nonchalant about the whole thing, I imagine he offered up his vehicle with some degree of hesitation and more than a few prayers to the patron saint of driving.

I am a good driver in theory, just not so much on paper.  In the 10 years of my life as a driver, I have collected a handful of moving violations, including one that got my license suspended for 30 days, as well as a separate handful of accidents, mostly minor in their collective impact but disheartening in their quantity.  And after I dented Sam's rim and almost backed into a tree on the two separate occasions I've driven his car, I don't blame him for his trepidation.

Rehearsal was fun; we held mics.  I stayed mostly in tune for most of the songs.  I think.  Really, though, the triumph came when I pulled into the garage with the car in the same condition as when I pulled out of the garage, and though I needed Sam to help me park it (he has this complicated way of doing it, which probably isn't all that complicated if I were to explain it, so I won't and spare myself further embarrassment), I still went upstairs feeling like a big boy who didn't need to be driven to school.