I thought it would be weird but no, it wasn’t. No one was sitting beside me. There was nobody telling me to turn left, turn right, slow down, foot on the brake, stop, go. Oh my god…I’m driving on my own at last! It’s liberation day!

Well, I’ve told you about this learning how to drive saga of mine. It wasn’t a walk in the park. It was a crazy plod into one of the most uncomfortable zones I have ever pushed myself into. And no amount of coaxing from the ever dearest unfortunate driving teacher hubby could pacify my nerves which had hopelessly and menacingly latched their endings on the steering wheel. The dramatic exchange goes like this:

“Hey, it’s just like learning how to play video games or Play Station.”

“No, it’s f.ck..n, NOT! There are real lives and property involved in here. I can make all the mistakes I want in the comfort of the lounge but not in freakin’ real urban traffic, for chrissake! I might hit another car, a pedestrian, a cyclist, darn…even a kangaroo!”

Those lines more or less summarize our heated arguments inside the car while I tried my hardest to remember which is left, which is right, how much pressure to apply on the brake and accelerator while controlling my tear glands from functioning at the same time. Not always successful. Because once the tears start rolling, the tempers step forward to steep up the scene. Not to mention 50% of the concentration and whatever amount of spatial intelligence start flying out of the car windows. Next, more stupid moves, more “lectures”, more defences, telling off, then raised voices, some occasional swearing. The driving lesson most oftentimes ended in a soapie kind of scene. No wonder, some friends congratulated us for still being together after those learner episodes.

And wow, they, too, as one wise Buddhist saying preaches, have passed. Because I have passed my driving test which now entitles me to be queen of my car. All alone, making my own decisions, happy just to sit behind a queue and not change lane when I didn’t really need to. And I could also choose my own sounds to listen to: classical or instrumental music in the morning so as not to clutter my mind and take away my focus. It keeps me calm. Morning talk shows on the radio sort of rattle my brain and set the day into a somewhat chaotic mood. And for driving home, some lively tunes, maybe disco or some Broadway soundtrack.

Yesterday was my first real day to drive to and from work alone. The other day doesn’t count “coz my guardian angel of a hubby drove in his car and followed me behind. Yup, like weaning a child. Slowly letting me go. I felt safe and secured, seeing him still in my mirror. Even exchanged mock kisses and nose picking. How yuckingly sweet.

Yeah, yesterday was the real test. No teacher, no loving husband to nag me into safety. Surprisingly, I wasn”t scared at all. Sure, there was a bit of fear wanting to rear its ugly little head forward. But no-no-no. It was another day I dreamed about literally and figuratively. So yeah, I couldn’t let it ruin my first day out into independent highway. No way. So there I was cruising along the peak hour race to home__keeping my distance from the cars in front, deciphering the series of yellows, reds and greens, stopping, slowing down and speeding away to Hugh Jackman’s singing (“The Boy From Oz” soundtrack).

Hmm…it should have been Irene Cara’s voice from “FAME” belting out “O-o-u-u-u-t here on my o-o-w-wn!” Yeah…where’s that CD?