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The day I received my learner driver permit, I remember being handed three things: a plastic thermosealed reminder that age sixteen was not a good look on me; a yellow L-plate sign as flimsy as my driving ability; and a weighty ‘how to drive’ guide listing all the things that I absolutely must not, under any circumstances, even-if-it-seems-like-a-really-swell-idea-at-the-time, never, ever do.

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