With all my peers acquiring driving proficiency a few months ahead of me, in this field, I was considered a late bloomer. The journey towards getting a driving license has been a bumpy ride. I signed up for driving lessons at 18 - opting for a driving school near my house. Although it had dodgy reviews, it was the most convenient at the time. I can remember sitting through a 1-day long theory class, but I can't remember much else. The lecturer tried and failed to capture the students' attention by offering "cool jokes" in between slides. But it didn't work - it felt like the longest day of my life. After thankfully passing my theory test at first go, it was time for practical lessons.
My driving instructor was nice but he really didn't want to be there. His apathy was so palpable that it made me uncomfortable. It added to all the other stressors which included driving a car without power steering and one without working air conditioning under the hot rays of Malaysian sun. After every lesson, it felt like I lost half my weight in sweat. However, the independence that driving gifts you felt good. And as I went through more driving lessons, I gained more confidence on the road. Gone were the days where I would stall in the middle of a busy road. I was changing gears like a pro.
My practical exam was fast approaching and I was ready. A little hitch though - a few days before the test, I somehow contracted Hand, Foot and Mouth disease. Painful blisters started appearing on the soles of my feet and on my palms. I couldn't eat because of the mouth ulcers and I was running high temperatures. It was beyond awful - I couldn't even walk! But due to plain stubbornness, after downing a few paracetamol tablets, I managed to get myself out of bed and to the driving school on test day without even thinking of infection control.
Like most days, it was a hot day. So many people turned up to get tested. And the hill where one is tested on, was open and visible for everyone to see. I hate being tested in front of an audience, so needless to say, the heat, the nervousness and the illness all contributed to me failing the hill element. Even worse, that was the first obstacle! And I had to go on and complete the rest of the driving test despite knowing full well that I wasn't going to walk out with a license. Strangely enough, I successfully passed every other aspect of the test. It was just the bloody hill. Eventually, after the second try, one I attempted without feeling like physically dying, I passed.
I went home after getting my provisional license, got the keys to the white Volkswagen car parked out front and unlocked it. This was the main reason I went through all the drama anyway. You see, my late grandfather bought me this car as a surprise gift when he found out I earned a place in medical school. I was still in London at the time and didn't have a license. When I talked to him, he would always say, "Ayne, when you come back, you must learn to drive and get your license!" He was so protective of the little beetle. He wouldn't let anyone drive it except for himself. It was to always be under a roof of some sort because it shouldn't be under direct sun, or God forbid, rain. And the plastic covers lining the chairs and the seatbelts were not to be taken off under any circumstances.
He was saving it just for me.
Unfortunately, he never got the chance to see me driving it. He passed away before I learnt what gears were. So as I sat there alone in the car, my license clutched in my hand, I wished he was there to experience this with me. And for a moment which felt like a long while, I just sat there in silence. There were tears streaming down my face and my limbs were shaking. I tried holding everything in but in reality, I was absolutely broken inside. "I've got my license, Bahyah. Now I can drive it like you always wanted," I said in my head. My hands, clutching the steering wheel, were where his hands were, and I sat where he once sat. I wondered what would he be thinking of when he sat in this car? Did he want to make this special for me? I missed him so much, and still do every single day.
Eventually, I switched the engine on for the first time. I drove off that day imagining Bahyah in the front seat, smiling as he watched me proudly. I imagined him saying to me, in his raspy, low voice, "Well done, Ayne, you drive well. But be careful in this next turning, don't drive too fast."
"Will do, Bahyah," I would say. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."
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