If by 'L plater moment' you include 'beginner driver moment', then let me tell you about the first time I drove: My cousin, whom I hadn't met for a few years, and I were just driving around his home town with nothing to do. He was 10 years older than me and had grown up with a completely different background to me. Needless to say, we didn't have much in common, and as a result of that, not much to talk about. After all the trite family-type questions "how's school?", "how are your parents?", "what are your goals" etc. there was a lull. My cousin took it upon himself to break the silence by nonchalantly asking "have you driven before?". As a car fanatic and a teenager who very much had not driven a car before, this naturally piqued my interest and I responded with a curious "no", to which he replied (somehow even more nonchalantly) "do you want to drive?".
There is no writer in the world who would be able to articulate how I felt at that moment, so here's a GIF of Jonah Hill that comes close to embodying my elated state:
In the time I composed myself, my cousin pulled over to the side of the road, and we swapped seats. I was behind the wheel. I was in control. Nobody would be pushing little old- or rather young, me around anymore. Everything was coming up 'Vivek'. The car might have been a tiny 0.8L tin can with wheels, but in that situation I would not have been any happier had it been a Ferrari. After explaining how to put the car into gear, my cousin instructed me to start driving. "Where?" I asked. "Who cares" was the response. This was fine by me, and I set off (after a few stalls) at the most offensively slow pace a manual driver could manage; but to me at that time, it felt more like this:
As soon as the vehicle started rolling forward, my heart rate increased. 10km/h- pupils dilated. 15 km/h- my grip on the steering wheel tightened; second gear. 20 km/h- heart was racing now; pupils were pinholes. 25 km/h- white knuckles, about to go into cardiac arrest; fighting incontinence. 30 km/h- shifted into third gear; I couldn't believe this crapbox was hiding a warp drive. 35 km/h- shit was getting too real; I didn't want to die in a fireball 3 km above sea level, no matter how spectacular. I pulled over. Sweat, sweat everywhere. I looked at myself in the rear view mirror. I no longer saw a boy. I saw the face of a man who had gone to the edge, slapped it silly, sent the edge home to it's mother in tears, and returned to regale the tale. The face of a man who had carpe'd the hell out of his diem. Unfortunately I probably looked more like this:
Either way, I wanted more! Without boring you with the details (although, if you've made it this far, it's too late): I drove around for a couple of hours, but then we had to go back to the farm. In a big, shiny, red tractor. With four wheels and a steering wheel. Did I mention it was shiny and red?
"Do you want to dr-"
He didn't need to finish the question.
Just like that, we were off once again! I've gotten plenty of looks in the months since I've modded my Lancer, but nothing comes close to the sheer look of awe on the plebeian faces as you [s]tear[/s] amble through the streets in an eyeball-searing red tractor. Everyone was totally jealous.
Remember also, it was only my third hour of driving. While I may have only been going 15, 20 or so km/h, the open cabin and noise of the vehicle made it feel more like this:
Now this is the part that I tell you I had turned 14 earlier that month; but don't worry- this is also the part that I tell you this all happened in a rural town in India
When I got back, I was kind enough to let my friends tell all their boring holiday stories ("skiing? That must have been fun", "family? Oh that's nice") before I blew their mindholes with mine.
Of course, there may have been a little bending of the truth in the retelling:
