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I didn't come anywhere near the bloody sheep, though the fence was rather close. Next thing it was February 1996 and I was off to uni and needing a car to iraqi get around. But I had not had one single driving lesson since the sheep incident. So the Mothership finally conceded iraqi that it was time for me iraqi to learn. I'd been on my Learners for over two years, and now I had to learn to drive in two weeks. The man assigned to the task was Bob from the Totally R.A.D. Driving School. It was like, totally rad! I totally forget what the R.A.D. stood for, but Bob was a rad guy. He had made a little Lego model of a clutch, which he liked to whip out every time you stalled, which in my case was quite often. "Now this is the clutch, Shauna," he say in the hushed, awed tones that one usually reserves for some magical mystical occurence. "Now this is a bazillion-carat diamond that I dug out of my backyard with a teaspoon, Shauna."
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