KEY POINTS:
One of my most vivid driving memories is when I destroyed three cars, including the one I was in, from the comfort of the passenger seat.
Having passed my licence, I was accompanying my brother to the bank in mum's Honda Accord. We parked outside AMI Insurance on
Christchurch's busy Riccarton Rd and I was told to wait in the car while he went into the bank next door.
These were deliberately simple instructions from an older brother whose trust I had so often tested in the past, but one probably has to wonder how an everyday situation such as this one could possibly turn into the disaster it did.
Minutes after he left, the car in front pulled away, leaving a large double space between us and the next car, and I saw this as an amazing opportunity to show off my newly acquired driving skills.
I decided to casually move our car forward a little into the newly vacated space. This journey of about 5m should have been fairly simple for somebody with even moderate driving ability, but thanks to a combination of puberty, stupidity and laziness I chose to do it all from the comfort of the passenger seat.
The procedure involved me lifting my legs over to the driver's side of the car where the all-important pedals were located. This is where it gets complicated. I was unable to use my normal clutch foot for the clutch as the angle of leg wouldn't allow it, so I needed to adapt.
I decided to cross my feet over using my right leg for the clutch and my left leg for the all-important brake and accelerator.
With the skills of a contortionist I eventually managed to get my legs in the necessary position, and then casually turned the key to start the engine. The next few seconds are a blur, partly because everything happened so fast, but mainly because the part of my brain that deals with trauma has edited the memories into split-second flash frames.
Mum's recently serviced Accord started on cue and then immediately reached 6500 revs thanks to the accelerator being pushed all the way to the floor. The only thing that kept the car stationary for the time being was the fact that the clutch and brake were also fully depressed.
This unorthodox use of the foot pedals was an understandable side effect of the left and right sides of my brain receiving conflicting information from the body parts they were charged with controlling.
I liken the situation to being asked to pat your head with one hand while simultaneously making a circle motion on your stomach with the other. A task that can be made even harder if somebody is tickling your genitalia with an ostrich feather, but I digress.
Like the colossal Apollo 11 rocket smoking and rumbling at the launch pad before its awesome power is released, sending its astronauts beyond the clutches of gravity and into history, mum's Honda Accord smoked, shuddered and screamed in anticipation of the clutch being released enough to allow forward motion. It would be fair to say I panicked.
By now the car was in first gear. The brakes were locked up, smoking and screeching, but for some reason the harder I tried to push in the clutch, the harder I would push on the gas.
The bystanders who had frequented drag strips would have been familiar with the overall effect.
On the other hand, the sight of me sitting in the passenger seat of an otherwise empty car, at maximum revs with the brakes on full, was probably a first for most shoppers.
But I had an even bigger problem looming - namely the Ford Telstar two parks ahead of me. By now the clutch had been released enough to ensure I was making noisy but steady progress towards the rear of this parked car in front of me. As well as providing all the screeching and the smoke, the brakes also ensured that my progress towards the Ford Telstar looked very deliberate and calculated rather than just a magnificent exhibition of man's incompetence.
Once I rear-ended the Telstar, I simply took it with me, shunting it like a carriage in a railway yard towards the next car, an aqua Nissan Sunny.
Another huge impact, but the Nissan must have had its hand brake on, which ensured that the front of the Telstar was well and truly smashed in, and the out-of-control Honda juggernaut came to a stop before it could do any more damage.
The damage by now was the rear of the Sunny, the front of the Telstar, the back of the Telstar and, of course, the front of mum's Honda Accord.
Then, through the smoke left by burning rubber, my brother emerged, just in time to gaze on the vehicular carnage, an apocalyptic vista befitting a Mad Max movie. The most surreal aspect, however, must have been the fact that I was still sitting in the passenger seat! Now would you believe me if I told you that after the bank we were heading into the AMI insurance building to get my name added to the car insurance? Ask him.
