When driving is a gas (a first timer's confession)
You may think that my first learning experience is another greatly-exaggerated misadventure of the blundering idiot but believe me, it's a bitingly cruel world out there and I serve as the voice to apsirants in driving.
I knew I was running out of flimsy excuses when my mom pointed out that at 22, one should at least have delusions of driving a car on her own. When I get behind the wheel, my hands turn putty but after much coaxing, I gave in. You see, I'm a poor excuse as a driving student. Read on.
My first instructor was my mother , the military combat superintendent I never had. Her orders, as what she 's been reiterating, should be taken into mind all the time : "Your life is dependent on how you drive." She gave me her 1-2-3 mandatory pre-driving steps rules : 1) gear in neutral 2) mirrors in place 3) handbrake down. My clumsiness often scored me an interminable sermon thereby aggrieving both parties. My mother was patient enought to have stuck it out with me but after the car shifted the gear too early one too many times and when the car went dead on us on the middle on the road with the fast cargo truck "gaining on us," she knew she had stretched her patience long enough. The final straw was when I gave the car an ugly scratch. .. ugly, beyond description. She knew then that she had to escalate this issue further. "Ta, you may need whatever power this holds for you," Mama said one day attaching a rosary on the rearview mirror.
In comes the second challenger, The significant other. A good actor, posing a calm exterior but the beads of sweat that trickle down from his forehead and how his hand inches away from the handbrake--everytime I'd nearly crash on with an another vehicle--betray him all the time.
One day, when we almost got into an accident, I silently asked him, "How did I do (in having saved our lives)?" He replied without emotion, "Err.. you didn't luck out in the spatial intelligence department." What he really meant was, "Baby, had you swerved an inch to the left too early, the truck would've killed us both!" A scream of terror, I suspected, that was caught in my boyfriend's throat That experience got the best in me so I gave up driving for 3 weeks until a tutor from a so-so driving school called me on the phone to set an appointment. "Surprise!" they all said in unison one day. Apparently, they believed that it would be choicest to have a stranger teach me the basics . I pity more the tutor , actually . " Two thousand gran in exchange for a 10 hour session won't be enough with the torture he'll go through with me ," I smirked. Come to think of it, it's a measly pay for the driving instructor who's staking his life on my very oafish driving skills, if I have any. I'm down to my last hour and so far, 4 instructors have survived. Whew! What a relief!
One day, from a trip to the mall, I blatantly suggested to my parents to drive the car home. A trip to Minglanilla would've taken around 45 mins. Having gotten home after an hour and fifteen mins. didn't sound bad. Nobody complained so I thought I was doing good.
While I was having a midnight snack, I overheard my sister saying, "mama, can you send achi back to the driving school? She needs more practice and we don't want to be in the backseat while she's doing that..."
"Well, why didn't you point that out to her?" Mama asked.
"We were busy praying, " Sis said.
Whether or not it was a joke, the emotional dent got me good but I know I shouln't give up now. I know that I'm still starting and someday, these burnt tires shall go speeding without hitches. I've certainly learned a lot though while making tracks on second gear running at 40 kph. Checking my refection in the mirror if the eye shadow was evenly put on in both creases is a forgotten pleasure. I shall not sulk into a defeatist mood should an aggressive driver honk me out of his way. And speaking of which, I shall forgive the faceless driver who honked at me for approximately 6 secs while I was innocently standing in the middle of the road. At that time in 2000, I initially imagined a man of gamin face whose time precious seconds was wasted by a highscool student (read:me) who wanted to cross the street. For all I care, that scroundel might have been a newbie on wheels who was clutching the steering wheels too hard blasting the horn away lest he might hit somebody on the road.
Someday, I'll be looking back at these and remember the emotional anesthesia but for the meantime, I shall I'll enjoy every bump on the road.
Writer's note: Since I got my license years ago, I've been everyone's proverbial driver.
I knew I was running out of flimsy excuses when my mom pointed out that at 22, one should at least have delusions of driving a car on her own. When I get behind the wheel, my hands turn putty but after much coaxing, I gave in. You see, I'm a poor excuse as a driving student. Read on.
My first instructor was my mother , the military combat superintendent I never had. Her orders, as what she 's been reiterating, should be taken into mind all the time : "Your life is dependent on how you drive." She gave me her 1-2-3 mandatory pre-driving steps rules : 1) gear in neutral 2) mirrors in place 3) handbrake down. My clumsiness often scored me an interminable sermon thereby aggrieving both parties. My mother was patient enought to have stuck it out with me but after the car shifted the gear too early one too many times and when the car went dead on us on the middle on the road with the fast cargo truck "gaining on us," she knew she had stretched her patience long enough. The final straw was when I gave the car an ugly scratch. .. ugly, beyond description. She knew then that she had to escalate this issue further. "Ta, you may need whatever power this holds for you," Mama said one day attaching a rosary on the rearview mirror.
In comes the second challenger, The significant other. A good actor, posing a calm exterior but the beads of sweat that trickle down from his forehead and how his hand inches away from the handbrake--everytime I'd nearly crash on with an another vehicle--betray him all the time.
One day, when we almost got into an accident, I silently asked him, "How did I do (in having saved our lives)?" He replied without emotion, "Err.. you didn't luck out in the spatial intelligence department." What he really meant was, "Baby, had you swerved an inch to the left too early, the truck would've killed us both!" A scream of terror, I suspected, that was caught in my boyfriend's throat That experience got the best in me so I gave up driving for 3 weeks until a tutor from a so-so driving school called me on the phone to set an appointment. "Surprise!" they all said in unison one day. Apparently, they believed that it would be choicest to have a stranger teach me the basics . I pity more the tutor , actually . " Two thousand gran in exchange for a 10 hour session won't be enough with the torture he'll go through with me ," I smirked. Come to think of it, it's a measly pay for the driving instructor who's staking his life on my very oafish driving skills, if I have any. I'm down to my last hour and so far, 4 instructors have survived. Whew! What a relief!
One day, from a trip to the mall, I blatantly suggested to my parents to drive the car home. A trip to Minglanilla would've taken around 45 mins. Having gotten home after an hour and fifteen mins. didn't sound bad. Nobody complained so I thought I was doing good.
While I was having a midnight snack, I overheard my sister saying, "mama, can you send achi back to the driving school? She needs more practice and we don't want to be in the backseat while she's doing that..."
"Well, why didn't you point that out to her?" Mama asked.
"We were busy praying, " Sis said.
Whether or not it was a joke, the emotional dent got me good but I know I shouln't give up now. I know that I'm still starting and someday, these burnt tires shall go speeding without hitches. I've certainly learned a lot though while making tracks on second gear running at 40 kph. Checking my refection in the mirror if the eye shadow was evenly put on in both creases is a forgotten pleasure. I shall not sulk into a defeatist mood should an aggressive driver honk me out of his way. And speaking of which, I shall forgive the faceless driver who honked at me for approximately 6 secs while I was innocently standing in the middle of the road. At that time in 2000, I initially imagined a man of gamin face whose time precious seconds was wasted by a highscool student (read:me) who wanted to cross the street. For all I care, that scroundel might have been a newbie on wheels who was clutching the steering wheels too hard blasting the horn away lest he might hit somebody on the road.
Someday, I'll be looking back at these and remember the emotional anesthesia but for the meantime, I shall I'll enjoy every bump on the road.
Writer's note: Since I got my license years ago, I've been everyone's proverbial driver.
Comments