L Plates are on. Teenwolf is off. Sob. Snotter. Wail.


This wee pudding behind a wheel……get me the smelling salts.

Well it has finally happened.
Teenwolf Is learning to drive.

My baby is behind the wheel of a car ,

Bring on the vapours.

He is just 17 and it has been on his mind since he was …well…born actually.

So when he broke his arm  4 days short of his birthday in November I was very sad but confess as we waited for his plaster cast to set  part of me did think …well at least he won’t be able to drive for a while.


No sooner is the plaster off than he is badgering me to take him out.

He wore me down so off we went. to the Murrayfield Stadium car park which is a vast area with not a soul around.

As I wemnt over the basics.

This is a car he rolled his eyes

That is the clutch I pointed at th clutch he rolled his eyes

That is the accelorator and the brake isin the middle.

It was as if I was talking to a man with over 25 years experience on the road. He couldn’t wait for me to shut up so I did.

As he turned the ignition on he put his foot down  on the gas with such velocity we did a wheelie I am not sure who got more a shock, him, me, his ears  or my bowel.

After a few steering grabs and screams

‘For gods sake Mum don’t scream at me ‘ he screamed at me.

‘Well it’s hard not to when you see your life flashing before you!’

‘Dad won’t be like this’;

“You’re right he will be worse’

So after going round about 25 times he got the hang of the clutch and the fact if you go round a corner at anything other than   crawl you are likely to skid, topple or crash.


His first official lesson was the following day.

He was out there with a brave brave man called Stephen  for 2 hours.

2 hours!

He drove from Crammond to Letih..

I was in shock when he told me

‘On the road?’ I asked

‘Yes where else ?’  the indignant response.


So not only have late night clubs and wild woman become a regular reason to wake up and worry now we can add the potential passing of the test and car napping my wee rustmobile to go cruising.

But I will not be foiled. I have a plan.

My options I outline below.

Make sure there is no petrol  in the tank  after all its flammable and therefore deemed dangerous.

Sell  it.

Burn  it.

Pay someone to steal it. (a joke ofifcer a joke)

Buy a bicycle ? Nope worse than a car.

I know what ! I’ll put on an eposide of Top Gear! One look at Clarkson should put him off for life. No he quite likes him – unbelievable really.

So we have come up with the ultimate deterrant.  The long suffering husband and I are going to buy an Inspector Clouseau car to use as advertsiing for the restaurant and brand it up as a giant haggis….well maybe a raost haunch of venison – either way a teenager driving a themed tiny car around the streets of Edinburgh means he’ll be on shank’s pony for a wee while longer yet….





Writer & broadcaster.

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