Thursday, 25 March 2010

Baby Driver...

"They call me Baby Driver
And once upon a pair of wheels
Hit the road and I`m gone ah
What`s my number
I wonder how your engine feels.
Ba ba ba ba
Scoot down the road
What`s my number
I wonder how your engine feels".

Lyrics and memories courtesy of Messrs Simon & Garfunkel

You may recall my latest mental health wobbles here concerning Grizzler passing his driving test and being road-ready, unlike his Neurotica Central Mother.

One of my friends at work advised me that I'd soon get over myself given the potential for adult nights out with an eager, home-based, designated chauffeur...

And Saturday of this week was the very first of those occasions. Grizz drove his parentals to the pub, only a mile and a half away from home, and deposited us, like landed gentry, at the very portal of The Gate.

Two hours later - on the dot, mind - he was back, this time girlfriend in tow, sitting quiescent in the back, to collect his ne'er do well mother and father from their cups in the Boozer.

And I honestly felt very proud of him and what he's achieved, (notwithstanding the fact that he needs to devote more time to his academic studies...). Sitting beside him in the passenger seat, my husband ensconced in the back with Madame, I saw how well and how calmly he was handling his new car, and I breathed out, and I chalked up yet another milestone in Motherhood, weighty with meaning.


  1. Well done! Have yet to reach this milestone and I can quite see that there may be pluses. My fear is that I may be like my neighbour who had to come for a coffee to avoid thinking about teenage daughter out in her car for the first time and still demands a text to prove safe arrival 3 years on...

  2. did you hold your breath all the way home...
    luv you

    saz x

  3. Don't you love the designated driver though?

  4. The more I read you MMMs the more I thank the Goddess that I am looking back a long long way.