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“Okay,” Robin says. Steve watches her grip tighten and loosen on the steering wheel with each syllable as she repeats the word. “Okay, okay, okay.”
Steve eyes her with concern. “Alright?”
It’s not like anyone’s forcing her to learn to drive. She looks like she’s being held at gunpoint, white faced and anxious. It’s really not filling Steve with confidence, even if she’s only going to be driving around a near empty car park. He’s going to have to wash his car after this as an apology to his Bimmer for the abuse she’s about to suffer.
Robin lets out a sharp exhale, visibly bracing herself. “Right foot on the accelerator,” she murmurs. “Okay, and… why isn’t it going anywhere? Steve, how have I already fucked up?”
Steve sighs. It’s not even midday yet, and he’s already exhausted. “Try turning the key.”
“I’m not built for this.” Robin cocks her head down and to the side. Steve’s not sure she even knows where she’s supposed to be putting the key in. “I’m destined to be a passenger princess to a competent and beautiful woman.”
“You have to actually talk to a woman for that, you realise?”
Robin sticks her tongue put at him. “Which way do I turn the key?”
Steve furrows his brow, thinking to himself. He holds his hand out in front of him, miming turning an imaginary key one way, then the opposite. He has absolutely no idea which direction is correct. He doesn’t normally have to think about it; he just turns the key on autopilot.
He shrugs, dropping his arm back down to rest on the door. “Eh, try both ways.”
Robin stares at him incredulously. “My faith in your teaching ability is rapidly declining. See this face?” She waves a hand in front of her own face. “This is the face of the faithless.”
“You’ve never had faith.” Steve huffs at her. “I think I heard your feet sizzling when we went to mass for Ma Henderson that one time.”
“Consecrated ground is what’s killing the gays, Stephanie.”
Steve squints out the window. “I’m pretty sure this is bitumen.”
He spots Robin rolling her eyes, but elects to ignore it. She returns to twisting the key, finally managing to turn the engine on.
“Okay, so the first—” Steve cuts himself off. “What are you doing?”
Robin starts flicking every fucking switch and button in his car on and off. The windscreen wipers start going, then they speed up, then they slow again. She holds the toggle for the windscreen fluid down for so long that Steve is probably going to have to fill it up when he gets home. She turns the hazard lights on, then off again. Even his high-beams are turned on, despite it being the middle of the day. She’s got her hand on his radio before she stops to look at him.
“I’m not driving a car that could be faulty, Dingus.”
“Should I be insulted right now?” Steve says. “I feel like I should be.”
Robin, happy that the radio is in working order apparently, shrugs. “Probably. Can you get out and watch that the brake lights work?”
“The brake lights work.”
Robin’s looking at him with her eyebrow raised. “When’s the last time you checked?”
“I don’t… how would I know when the last time I checked them was?”
Robin shakes her head at him. “Nope, not good enough. Out.” She clicks her tongue at him. Like she’s talking to a horse, or something. “Check them.”
“Oh for…” Steve throws his arms up. “Fine! Fucking… fine.”
Steve gets out of the car and rounds the back. He watches Robin put the brakes on and off a couple of times before he gets back in the car. Hopefully she’ll be a better driver if she knows everything works correctly.
Steve does his seatbelt up. “Ready to go now? Or do you want to check the wheel nuts are tight enough too?”
“Oh my god, do you think I need to—”
“No!” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Put the car in ‘drive.’ There you go.” He waits for her to start driving. The car doesn’t move. “Put your foot on the gas. Come on, Rob.”
Robin takes a deep breath, and Steve feels the car begin to creep forward.
“OH MY GOD!” Robin yells.
The car moves forward at a snail’s pace.
“I’M DOING IT!”
The car has moved, like, maybe one parking space over.
“HOLY SHIT! OKAY, LET’S ALL STAY CALM!”
Steve stares at Robin. Her hands are gripping the steering wheel like she’s afraid it’s going to be taken away from her, or something.
“I think I can walk faster than you’re going right now.”
Robin ignores him. She’s got her eyes fixed out the windscreen, and Steve can see she’s started whispering something to herself instead of continuing to shout.
Steve should probably actually start teaching her, he guesses. He hears her mumble something about crashing to herself. Fucking hell. There’s like nothing here she could even crash into.
“Okay,” he says. “Except for that one van, it’s an empty parking lot. Just try getting comfortable with steering.”
Robin jerks the wheel to the left. There’s a quiet scraping noise as she drives them straight over a traffic island.
Steve sighs.
“At least that only damaged underneath, I guess,” he says.
Robin starts hyperventilating, breaths coming faster and faster like a shitty beatboxer.
“I’m going to crash. Oh my god, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done.” She looks at him. Like, fully takes her eyes off the road and turns her head. “Steve, I can’t even run in a straight line! I can’t control a car!”
Steve would comfort her, but he’s more worried about how she’s finally figured out how to put her foot down in the midst of her panic. The car speeds up a little.
It’s pointed directly at a van parked near the tree-line.
“Okay you’re going to want to turn the wheel now. You’re heading straight for that van. Turn the wheel.”
Robin’s knuckles are white. Steve reaches for the wheel, but she’s gripping too tightly for him to move it.
“Robin. Turn. ROBIN!”
“WHICH WAY?!” Robin screeches.
“EITHER WAY!” Steve screams back. “TURN THE WHEEL—”
Crunch .
Steve’s head is thrown forward a little with the impact. He gapes out at the van they’ve managed to hit.
“It’s a giant parking lot, and she hit the only other fucking car,” he says under his breath, incredulously.
Robin looks near tears. “I’m so sorry!” She says, bringing her hands up to her face. “What do we do? Do we leave a note?”
Steve squints out at the van. He wouldn’t be surprised if that van was literally being held together by duct tape right now. It’s like if someone went to a wreckers and tried to make a car from scratch from whatever they could find. The dent they’ve made blends in with all the others. He looks back at Robin.
“That van’s beat up enough already that they probably won’t notice the new dents.” He waves his hand in the air. “Come on, switch seats.”
“We can’t just leave it!” Rob says emphatically.
“Look at that van. I think you crashed a homeless persons car.”
Robin’s distraught, naturally. “I crashed someone’s house,” she says in a horrified whisper.
Steve sighs, again. “We’ll leave twenty dollars or something under their windscreen wipers.” He starts trying to fish his wallet out, but stops to point a finger at Robin. “You’re never driving my car again, by the way. You’re on the banned list with Mayfield and Henderson.”
“Good! I don’t want to. This was the worst experience I’ve had in my life.”
Steve starts digging through his wallet for a twenty dollar note. “Even worse than the—”
“Even worse than the Russian torture chamber, yes.”