Driving Lessons
This is for you, Papa. Happy Father's Day!
Originally submitted as a requirement for Communication 10 class at the University of the Philippines-Baguio, first semester, AY 2007-2008
DRIVING LESSONS
Maundy Thursday, 2007. While the rest of the family was in their respective Holy Week modes, I was my bored-stiff self once more, slightly annoyed that all major establishments were closed-if not partially-that day. Then a wild idea came to me-I asked Dad if he could teach me how to drive. I was already sixteen, I reasoned. I should be driving like my older classmates!
To my utter astonishment, there was no hint of reluctance, or procrastination for that matter, in his reply. He readily agreed, car keys in hand. It was really that quick-I was going to drive for real!
He first drove me to the main avenue of our subdivision, and then let me slip behind the wheel. He first lectured me briefly on the gears, and then told me to start by engaging first gear. I was honestly quite nervous; prior to that moment, all the driving experience I had was warming up the car before trips. I pushed the clutch all the way to the floor, shifted into first gear, and ever so slowly began to depress the clutch at the same time pushing on the gas pedal. After what seemed forever (a pseudo-Agony-in-the-Garden experience for me-still thinking Holy Week thoughts), the car finally began to inch forward. Dad instructed me to slowly release the clutch and apply more pressure on the gas. I did both, at the same time negotiating my first pair of humps quite roughly. Then came my first corner. Dad told me to slow down, which I did: I gave a hefty push to the brake, in which case, as experienced drivers know, should have been accompanied by the clutch. Naturally, the engine died and the car stalled in the middle of the road.
I have learned much more since that fateful Thursday. Seriously.
To my surprise once more, driving became a bonding activity of sorts between Dad and me. I am naturally more attached to Mom, and Dad being a typical 8-to-5 (exclusive of overtimes) behind-the-desk office person being no help either. So when this opportunity presented itself in the form of driving lessons every Saturday, I grabbed it wholeheartedly. Aside from words such as “change gear now” or “easy on the gas,” we got to talk about other interesting stuff too. He would point out the houses of his childhood friends in our subdivision, while once I revealed to him my newfound musical preference (which, by the way, I discovered, we share) by choosing a jazz station on the car radio.
I also learned that driving teaches me to make decisions, to be a trusting person. That is perhaps an unusual thing to learn, but it does make sense. First, it is important to see the world through a car’s windscreen. In my case, I have to keep my eyes peeled for potential hazards, or things I might run into. I have to anticipate certain situations that may occur any time, pedestrians and motorists alike. Dad said that being in the driver’s seat gives me the control or choice I would have otherwise not experienced if I were in the passenger’s seat. I can steer, or floor the gas pedal. I can avoid that huge pothole, or skillfully manage between those two double-parked Revos. I decide whether I can be a good or bad driver. It all rests in my hands.
Driving became a weekly thing for me and Dad during the remainder of the summer. However, this idyllic picture screeched to an abrupt halt when I entered college and moved to Baguio. For one, moving to Baguio for a college education was no easy thing to consider, especially when doing it for the first time. It is one thing to say, “I’m going to UP Baguio,” and another thing to actually do it. Quite frankly, I was terribly unsure of myself for days on end leading to my departure date-was I really prepared to do this and take a terrifying plunge into this new world of independence? After days of intense discernment-and some tears here and there, mind you-I was ready to give Baguio life a shot.
Funny, though, that one of the things that saddened me the most was the notion of not driving for a year, and much more not driving with Dad. I guess that is how people react to something they begin to truly enjoy, but suddenly have to let go-a healthy mix of regret and loss, if I may add.
I am a novice driver by all descriptions. I have not yet even been properly “weaned” into proper driving, proof of which are the facts that I have not shifted into fourth gear at all, or even ventured out of our subdivision. I trust I will get there, with focus and determination.
As the Rascal Flatts song goes, “Life is a highway, and I’m gonna ride it all night long.” When I get back home from Baguio, I know I’ll get behind the steering wheel and find that highway of mine. It’s bound to be rough and bumpy, but what is a road without a bit of challenge? I know it’s going to be exciting. I can’t wait.
Originally submitted as a requirement for Communication 10 class at the University of the Philippines-Baguio, first semester, AY 2007-2008
DRIVING LESSONS
Maundy Thursday, 2007. While the rest of the family was in their respective Holy Week modes, I was my bored-stiff self once more, slightly annoyed that all major establishments were closed-if not partially-that day. Then a wild idea came to me-I asked Dad if he could teach me how to drive. I was already sixteen, I reasoned. I should be driving like my older classmates!
To my utter astonishment, there was no hint of reluctance, or procrastination for that matter, in his reply. He readily agreed, car keys in hand. It was really that quick-I was going to drive for real!
He first drove me to the main avenue of our subdivision, and then let me slip behind the wheel. He first lectured me briefly on the gears, and then told me to start by engaging first gear. I was honestly quite nervous; prior to that moment, all the driving experience I had was warming up the car before trips. I pushed the clutch all the way to the floor, shifted into first gear, and ever so slowly began to depress the clutch at the same time pushing on the gas pedal. After what seemed forever (a pseudo-Agony-in-the-Garden experience for me-still thinking Holy Week thoughts), the car finally began to inch forward. Dad instructed me to slowly release the clutch and apply more pressure on the gas. I did both, at the same time negotiating my first pair of humps quite roughly. Then came my first corner. Dad told me to slow down, which I did: I gave a hefty push to the brake, in which case, as experienced drivers know, should have been accompanied by the clutch. Naturally, the engine died and the car stalled in the middle of the road.
I have learned much more since that fateful Thursday. Seriously.
To my surprise once more, driving became a bonding activity of sorts between Dad and me. I am naturally more attached to Mom, and Dad being a typical 8-to-5 (exclusive of overtimes) behind-the-desk office person being no help either. So when this opportunity presented itself in the form of driving lessons every Saturday, I grabbed it wholeheartedly. Aside from words such as “change gear now” or “easy on the gas,” we got to talk about other interesting stuff too. He would point out the houses of his childhood friends in our subdivision, while once I revealed to him my newfound musical preference (which, by the way, I discovered, we share) by choosing a jazz station on the car radio.
I also learned that driving teaches me to make decisions, to be a trusting person. That is perhaps an unusual thing to learn, but it does make sense. First, it is important to see the world through a car’s windscreen. In my case, I have to keep my eyes peeled for potential hazards, or things I might run into. I have to anticipate certain situations that may occur any time, pedestrians and motorists alike. Dad said that being in the driver’s seat gives me the control or choice I would have otherwise not experienced if I were in the passenger’s seat. I can steer, or floor the gas pedal. I can avoid that huge pothole, or skillfully manage between those two double-parked Revos. I decide whether I can be a good or bad driver. It all rests in my hands.
Driving became a weekly thing for me and Dad during the remainder of the summer. However, this idyllic picture screeched to an abrupt halt when I entered college and moved to Baguio. For one, moving to Baguio for a college education was no easy thing to consider, especially when doing it for the first time. It is one thing to say, “I’m going to UP Baguio,” and another thing to actually do it. Quite frankly, I was terribly unsure of myself for days on end leading to my departure date-was I really prepared to do this and take a terrifying plunge into this new world of independence? After days of intense discernment-and some tears here and there, mind you-I was ready to give Baguio life a shot.
Funny, though, that one of the things that saddened me the most was the notion of not driving for a year, and much more not driving with Dad. I guess that is how people react to something they begin to truly enjoy, but suddenly have to let go-a healthy mix of regret and loss, if I may add.
I am a novice driver by all descriptions. I have not yet even been properly “weaned” into proper driving, proof of which are the facts that I have not shifted into fourth gear at all, or even ventured out of our subdivision. I trust I will get there, with focus and determination.
As the Rascal Flatts song goes, “Life is a highway, and I’m gonna ride it all night long.” When I get back home from Baguio, I know I’ll get behind the steering wheel and find that highway of mine. It’s bound to be rough and bumpy, but what is a road without a bit of challenge? I know it’s going to be exciting. I can’t wait.