A Fistful of Steering Wheel

Did some night driving for the first time ever. Jim tells me my nervousness is very palpable. If I could just calm down, things would go better.

"Steer! Take another right. Okay now go. Come on, it's 25 through here. Would you relax? Here. Pull over a minute."

Why do I get myself so worked up over this? I tell him that I want so badly to get it right that it flusters me hugely when I fuck up. So the one bad turn I had way back just built up, making new fuck ups cuz I never let the first fuck up go. Jim pointed out to me that people fuck up! Big deal! Get over it! He tells me that if I continue to live my life that way, I'll never get anything done in life and it'd be a miserable life at that.
"I can tell you're nervous. Why? Hell, when I got mine I was so excited. You had to tie my feet down to keep me from flyin' away."

On the way back:
"STEER! You keep wanting to make every turn a square turn. Turns are ROUND. Try drawing up an intersection. Sleep in tomorrow and draw up an intersection. Get familiar with what you're doing when you take a turn. Maybe even come out here and sit in the car. Ain't nobody gonna tell you you can't. Sit in it. Get to know where things are." (I couldn't tell him what side the gas was on and had trouble finding mom's high-beams) "Tomorrow we'll take 'er out again and get you going on those turns. Cuz until you get those down, we ain't touching parallel parking."

Well--
I'm a Class A Fuck up. But for some reason, Jim thinks I can do it. I guess I'm just lacking the basic common sense that most people have.
"You've got it," Jim argued, "You just don't know how to use it yet."

So I'm supposed to sleep in and relax. He wants me relaxed when we go driving again today.