I am 30 years old and I am still learning to drive. I first started learning how to drive when I was 19 years old during my summer vacations. It’s easy to obtain a driver’s license in India but it’s not as easy to master driving on Indian roads. I took a 10 sessions class with the nearby driving school and learnt the basics of road rules and operating a gear vehicle.
I then needed to get my hours on-road and my dad, being the only other person in the house who knew how to drive, volunteered/was cajoled to help me practice. We initially practiced on large stretches of land, which was the local boys’ cricket ground.
When I decided to venture out into the roads, my dad was freaked out. He wouldn’t let go of the handbrake and would hold on to his dear life by tightly clutching the handle above the window. We tried this for a couple of drives and I gave up. His fear instilled zero confidence in my driving. I felt I made no progress.
The baton was then passed to my friends in my post-graduate college. I tricked them into letting me drive on-route to Starbucks at 11pm. Drive to Starbucks was our nightly ritual to fuel yet another assignment with a deadline hours away. The assignments never ended, and our trips continued for two years. On the ghostly traffic-free Bangalore roads, I finally learnt how to drive.
4 years after this, I am now having to re-learn to drive on the other side of the road in Silicon Valley. The baton is now passed on to my spouse. I am again doing the nightly traffic-free drives around Castro district learning to navigate the hexagonal intersections, be indifferent to aggressive SF drivers, and not skip the overwhelming, blink and miss road signs.
Writing this reminded me of the deep-rooted resentment I held against my dad. I resent him for leaving me too soon. I resent him for not giving me the confidence to drive and take on the world. I resent him for being scared. I resent him for being weak. I resent him for making me weak. It’s hard to forgive him, but I figured that he meant well, just didn’t have it in him to overcome his own fears. I think I have forgiven him.
I am grateful that I had friends who cared enough to help me where my parent lacked. My friends didn’t have to do it for me. My spouse doesn’t have to do it for me. It made me realize the importance of building and nurturing a community of people you care about and people who care for you beyond your immediate family.
We aren’t always blessed with the best of genes, the best of parents, the best of circumstances. Sustaining relationships is constant work. However, it will reap dividends because humans are emotional beings who give back.
Inspired by this prompt: Ghost Bread