Fear

 

A long time ago, I was taking driving lessons from my mother God bless her courage. She kept chanting “Speed controlee!” every five seconds while gripping the dashboard like we were in a Fast & Furious audition. I, on the other hand, was chasing the thrill the breeze, the power, the promise of freedom behind the wheel.

Then boom. I kissed another car. No one was hurt, thank goodness. We settled it right there like grown-ups. But I was shaken. The fear crept in fast. That night I toyed with the idea of giving up maybe I was just meant for Uber and boda bodas. Maybe the driving life wasn’t for me.

But the next day, I got back in the driver’s seat fearing that if I hesitated my practise lessons would end there and then. Two voices were in my head. One whispered, “Keep going or fear wins.” The other reminded me of our old neighbour who stopped driving after a minor accident. She let her husband take over and she never reclaimed that freedom. I didn’t want that and while that works for some, it didn’t sound like freedom to me. I didn’t want fear to trick me into handing over my keys to life.

Luckily, my mother had wisdom to match her nerves. She suggested a one-week break not to quit, but to reflect. We revisited what went wrong, talked through scenarios, and dissected the accident like it was a murder mystery. Turns out, I learned more in that week than in all the lessons before it. I realized it’s okay to make mistakes as long as you face them, learn, and grow. Fear isn’t something you conquer by charging through it. Sometimes, you slow down, learn the curves, and then continue.

Today, years later, I drive with confidence even during rush hour (well… mostly). I don’t just love the freedom driving gives me. I love that I earned it by refusing to let fear call the shots