After months of training and great expense I finally passed my motorcycle test on the first go. The test ride never seemed to end and my wrist and neck were almost fused solid from the tension. Having a full license feels insane enough, to say the least.
Later that day I was almost run down at a crossroad when a girl ploughed straight ahead at me despite indicating left. It's hard to describe the furious cocktail of emotions felt when confronted with another's lax driving right after meeting the DSA's strict standards. Simply put, I barely restrained myself from punching off her side mirror.
I also noticed that her passenger looked suspiciously like Brad Pitt but I simply walked on, as a celebrity of his stature would certainly never be found occupying one of those craptastic hatchbacks that infest Britain's roads.
Horrible, horrible cars, the lot of 'em.
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