Why 31 is better than 16: Embarrassing Moment # 31

The year HOT BOY (he shall remain nameless in case he reads this blog and then I'm utterly embarassed all over again) was on the basketball team, I thanked God that I was a cheerleader.  Yum, I could watch him play all day long.  That was also the year that I got the card of freedom called a driver's license.  

What I quickly found out is Hot Boy + Driver's License did not mix. 

Robyn, my friend from the cheer squad offered to help me learn to drive The Blue Rocket.  This car was my parent's gift to us Calabio girls.  Really, I think they purchased such a hideous vehicle to keep the boys away.  Boy, did that work well for them. 

Robyn and I cruised around in The Blue Rocket in the church parking lot until I decided I was ready to test my stick driving skills on the main roads.  We started off to a smooth start.  I geared down when I needed and shifted when I sped up.  I was a natural. 

Well, of course, that lasted all of thirty seconds.  We pulled up to one of the only intersections in Pleasant Grove and stopped at the red light.  It was then that Robyn pointed at a car as it stopped on the left of the intersection. 
Oh. My. Word.  HOT BOY was sitting in his car looking at us.  At me!  (Squeal). 
The light turned green.  And my mind went blank.  I couldn't remember what to do first.  After pushing in the clutch and then releasing the gas too fast, the car lurched forward into the middle of the intersection.  In horror I sat dumbfounded.  Robyn was yelling directions too fast and my mind and hands and feet fumbled to follow, but I was a nit-wit wreck.  Embarrassed beyond belief, I wanted to die right then and there. 
So, without giving much thought to my action, I decided the best thing to do would be to hide.  In a split second, I launched myself over the front seat and into the back seat where I crouched down and hid.  (Yes, the car was still sitting in the middle of the intersection.)

After a slur of swear words, Robyn jumped into the front seat and drove me away from that scarring scene.  (Thanks again for saving my butt Robyn) 

Need I say more when I tell you HOT BOY never asked me out. 

So, now as I lament on turning 31 (ugh, middle age) I also would much rather be 31 and not 16, love struck and stuck in the middle of an intersection.