My driving instructor told me once that he was in a vulnerable position, being in a car with women alone. You ‘never knew’ what accusations somebody might make.
We’d been getting on okay. I knew quite a lot aboit him; his wife, his young children, his rented flat.
A week or so later, when we we were both laughing, he put his hand on my bare thigh. I thought it was most likely a mistake. I decided not to mention it. A week later, it happened again, twice in one lesson. I felt mainly angry; this man was jeopardizing my learning. I was getting on okay and i didnt want to start over with someone else. I didnt want my lessons to be uncomfortable either.
I never mentioned it to him but from then on, in my lessons I stared straight ahead, rarely laughed and wore trousers.
It still happened, but i minimised the opportunities.
He put his arm round my waist when showing me how to check the tyres, moved me by the hips when i checked the oil.
When I passed my test, he moved in for a hug. I stepped away. Part of the victory was knowing i’d never have to see him again.
