this weekend, I got to be a teenager again.

Just for about 16 hours, spread over two days, a mere fleeting moment compared to the amount of time I will spend as an adult, I was enrolled among teenagers in a programme especially catered to teenagers. And shy of a few extra 10-plus years on them, I was entirely qualified to participate.

Yes. It was Teen Driving School. And not just any teen driving school, mind you. It was the Masterdrive Two-Day Skills Programme.

Nevermind that at twenty-ten years old, I had never got around to learning how to drive.

Nevermind that it's so unlikely in America for adults to NOT know how to drive that all driver ed programmes are classified as Teen Driving.

Nevermind that the two-day programme is catered specifically as a defensive course, crucial for all learning drivers to take in order to be well-prepared in the event of the need to avoid crashes and poor road conditions.

Nevermind that I was the only person among 27 students way above the age of 17.

Nevermind that the school was opened by a man who lost his own daughter in a car accident in 1986, 20 years ago.

Nevermind that I kicked ass in the skid-recovery segment and received a standing ovation from the coaches AND the owner himself.

Nevermind that I will be less of a hazard on the road once I get behind the wheel.

What matters is that I got to play teenager again, and FEEL like a teenager again. Who would have thought that being surrounded by pimply, obnoxious teens would make you feel like a 14-year-old again. Ha.

Starting to feel my age? WHAT RUBBISH.