Driving instructors can be hit and miss

Posted on February 4, 2010

While driving around to pick up some stuff for #85 I spotted this driving instructor’s car. Surely the battered body would be bad for business; I mean, how good a teacher can you be when your car’s panels are held on with tape?

Seeing this made me remember the days when I had driving lessons. My driving instructor was a big fella by the name of Francis. He ‘taught’ me how to drive in a manual ’90 Toyota Camry, and on my very first lesson he took me straight to the Hume Highway in peak hour. I remember completely freaking out as this was the first time I had driven a car (that’s not entirely true as I had driven a car into a fence when I was 8, but let’s not talk about that!), and having to do my first lesson on one of Sydney’s worst roads was certainly a baptism of fire. I was getting honked at left, right and centre, and much to my horror, Francis stuck half his body out of the window so he could flip his middle finger and yell a variety of expletives at the other drivers. All while I was zig-zagging out of my lane and trying to concentrate.

I’d have lessons with Francis every weekend, and each was an experience in itself. Because he had a strong Fijian accent, I often had no idea what he was saying; so I’d simply nod to shut him up and then try to figure it out for myself. Sometimes he would tell me to pull over so he could jump out and get a bite to eat (he was always nice enough to ask if I wanted something, but more often than not I’d just end up waiting in the car). Other times I’d sit outside my house for hours on end, waiting for him to remember that we had a lesson booked in for that day.

On more than one occasion he’d direct me towards Bankstown – where he lived – so that he could grab something from his apartment. Francis also had a penchant to fall asleep during my lessons, usually snoring like a freight-train with his mouth wide-open. During one of these snooze sessions, I decided to open up the Camry to see what it could do (I was reckless in my teens). He woke up when I hit 120.

But don’t get me wrong; I’m not bitching about him. Francis was an absolute legend. Some of the stories he told me will stay with me until die, and when William needed a driving instructor I didn’t hesitate in recommending him!

P.S. – Sorry for the worn synchros Francis; I taught myself heel-toeing whenever you had a nap!

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