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.
“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.”
“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.