Sometimes being a grown-up sucks. Sure, the freedom it brings such as having your own car, making money and decisions does have its perks. But it does come with a lot of responsibility too.
The past year and a bit has certainly been a steep learning curve for me. And one particular aspect which has been driving me round the bend has been, quite fittingly, my motor.
Despite having reliably served my mother for the past six years, just months after becoming mine it transformed from a healthy Volkswagen into a hypochondriac.
I never thought I would say it, but I miss the bus. Even with it’s unpredictable timetable, interesting characters and the odd terrifying driver – a combination which either leaves you standing at the bus stop or late, annoyed and lucky to be alive.
It certainly beats wincing when you see the price at the petrol station or pretending to the mechanic you understand what an MOT entails and are fine with them taking your money. Despite the car looking exactly the same, even down to the bird poo on the windscreen.
There should be a course you can go on before you get bombarded with the real world. University is a step in the right direction with making you more independent, but it is still one giant leap from there into reality.
It certainly makes you realise how much you take for granted when you are little. Lunch magically appears in your bag, dirty clothes seem to wash, iron and hang themselves back in your wardrobe. And the taxman is just a bad person parents have to worry about.
I am trying my best to adapt. But there are so many things to juggle.
Luckily one thing hasn’t changed – I still have my parents to hold my hand. And something tells me they are getting more than a little enjoyment out of this stage of watching me grow up.