So finally the fear of being in a situation where I have to rush someone to the hospital in a car only to realise that I haven’t the slightest idea how to start the car won over my fear for getting behind the wheel.
When I say fear, I am not exaggerating. I am the kind who looks at cars like they are living things with headlights for eyes, the windshield for a massive forehead, and the hood plus the bonnet for a double-sided butt that can knock you off your feet. And did I mention the sides for such muscular arms and feet, you cannot really tell a leg from a foot apart? This vision in my head presents a monster which can squash me like a bug.
Wait, what was I talking about? Oh getting over my fear.
I got over my fear by signing up for driving lessons. Yes, yes, I conquered my fear, thank you, thank you very much (taking several bows infront of a roaring standing ovation).
When I went to the driving school, I thought the instructor would just take me through the basics of what’s what. You know things like this is what you use to start the car, stop the car turn left, right, baby steps. But this man must have gone to the hit-the-ground-running school because he got me behind the wheel immediately.
With me behind the wheel, my sweat glands became active, my heart rate doubled and my palms became naturally moisturised. I could feel my shirt sticking to on my skin. Strangely, amidst all this anxiety, a sort of calm settled over me.
And then the instructor sneakily had me on the road. Sneakily because one moment he was telling me what each button, level and pedal does (notice how I already know car speak?), and the next I had left a space between two cars, and one in front of me in a tiny, tiny parking lot and was driving on the same road with pros.
One minute he was saying press down on the clutch, turn to gear one, let go of the clutch a little, slowly step on the accelerator, turn all the way left, then right, again, change the gear, keep going, don’t mind the trucks (two large white trucks carrying sand, did I mention my ear for large trucks?), indicate left, turn left, balance, that’s good, relax your hand on the steering, then I was driving up a slope, turning right, going over humps and potholes maneuvering a corner, going downhill and before I knew it, I was back in the tiny parking lot, between two cars.
It turns out the wheel wasn’t as terrifying as I had expected. And that the wheel and car do what I instruct them to do. So with my discovery, I cannot wait for tomorrow’s lesson. As long as I can remember what to press or turn when, I will not hit anyone or anything and can come out in one piece.
LESSON LEARNT: I AM THE MASTER OF THE WHEEL