To drive is freedom

Did I tell you that at 31 years old, I finally got my driving licence (my mother-in-law and her sisters think it's the stress of taking a driving exam that pushed me into early labour!)?

For the last 1.5 months, I've been driving The Hubby's wheels around and in exchange, he's been taking the LRT to work (his office is in KLCC) and legging it. I must take back all my words about not really having the – well, drive – to drive.

There's something about being able to control a moving machine that takes you places, doesn't it? For the two decades I've been relying on public transport (you'll be surprised to know how many members of my profession don't drive hehe – journos don't really earn the big bucks!), I was contented. I even thought I was quite cool, and not to mention thrifty, for not owning and driving a car simply to declare my entry into adult life when I was 18.

Of course, I didn't know then what I know now – that taking and then actually EARNING that licence was all it took to embrace you into the Camarilla of Carhood. Now I can't imagine not driving ever again. Yesterday, when The Hubby took the car, I honestly felt handicapped.

We agreed not to buy another car because we don't exactly need another financial commitment. I'm not THAT desperate – not yet hehe – but if I were to consider one, I really fancy the Honda Jazz.

Does anyone know how much it is and if there are any good deals around?

I can hear The Hubby's eyeballs popping out *lol*

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