Despite all the headaches associated with having a car as my stuffie friends kindly reminded me, I still decided to go ahead with learning how to drive on my new, red BeeMV convertible that I recently won on the Price is Right. So my mom signed me up for driving lessons at S.P. Driving School.
Here I am in the parking lot waiting for my first lesson. I wonder what S.P. stands for. It must be “speed” and “performance” or something like that. I can’t wait to go VROOM VROOM VROOM in this car.
I waited 15 minutes. Hmm… where is my driving instructor?
Another 15 minutes went by. I decided to take a nap.
Sometime later, I was woken up by a familiar voice.
“Heeeeellooooooooo Aaaaaaajdiiiiin.”
“Ooogie? What are you doing here?’ I asked.
“I’m youuuuuuur driiiiiiviiiing iiiiiinstruuuuuctooooor,” he said. “Weeeeelcoooooomeee tooo S.P. Driiiiiiviiiiing Schoooool.”
He flipped over the sign. It read:
SLOW POKE DRIVING SCHOOL
He made his way towards the passenger side.
Then he got in the vehicle.
“Reeeemeeeembeeer tooo aaaalwwwwaaayssss buuuckleeee uuuup.”
*click*
*click*
“Noooow tuuuuurn ooooon the igniiiiiiitiiiiion. Aaaaand goooo slooooooow.”
I pressed down gently on the gas pedal.
“Tooooooo faaaaaaast,” Oooogie said. “Youuuu’reeeee gooooooiiing tooooooo faaaast. Sloooooow doooooown.”
“But I’m only going 10 miles per hour,” I insisted.
“Fiiiiive. Fiiiiiive miiiiilees peeeeeer hooooour,” said Ooogie.
So I pressed beary lightly on the gas pedal, and at 5 mph, we crawled out of the parking lot.
I guess I’ll see you later. I’m not sure when we’ll be back.
