Time for a jolly good slap-up breakfast, with lashings of salty sardines for all!
This is all in celebration of me finally passing my driving test after the fifteenth attempt. Time for my driving skills to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world, as opposed to them simply being used on my family’s estate for the purposes of distressing the servants.
You see, it’s not my fault that I kept failing the silly driving test. I was just taught to be wild and free on our estate while I was behind the wheel, and now I’m having to learn how normal people drive. Are there not mechanics open in Hobart? Far be it from me to deprive them of a job when I take the family Ferrari through the orchard and scrape it against a few trees, lose a wheel, utterly destroy the engine when I don’t quite swerve in time and end up totalling the vehicle. I know most people and mechanics would consider that a write-off, but we have enough money to deliver that huge hunk of junk to the mechanic’s workshop anyway, paying large sums to see what they can do with it. For fun, mostly.
Now that I can drive for real, outside the confines of the mansion, I need to obey road rules and all sorts of silly things like that, much like the common people on the road. This confused me…at first. But then I realised that ordinary people don’t have basically unlimited money, and thus they have to obey the rules of the road. Cars cost more money than I would expect, and not everyone can afford to bring them to a mechanic at a moment’s whim, or even replace them when they break.
This must be the reason road rules exist in the first place: because people just can’t afford new cars whenever they like. They all have to drive like princesses, because that’s the way it has to be. Sad, but true, and I have to share the road with them.
I guess the car service garages in Hobart have their hands full with normal services without me wrecking shop. Maybe I’ll go for my helicopter license instead.