"Wait till you buy yours, son." My dad said this without remorse when I eventually summoned the courage to ask him to teach me to drive. Perhaps the implication of me learning how to drive was that I would deprive him of full ownership of the car. Unfortunately, I had no means to purchase a car of my own at that age and stage. I was dependent even for feeding, and the idea of driving the Mercedes-Benz was terminated as soon as it was born. It was a dead end if I relied on my dad to learn to drive.
My passion, however, burned rather than buried, and I began to observe the movements of drivers whenever I entered any vehicle. It became both my hobby and an obsession to watch how the drivers change the car gear, match the brake pedal, and even turn the steering. I wanted to jump at any available car so I could become the Lord of the Wheels.
Even though my dad had tried to bury my idea of using his car to learn to drive, my inquisitiveness prompted me to move his car on two occasions, even though it was just a forward and backward movement. An older brother of mine was unlucky in his attempt to drive dad's car in his absence; he bashed the car so badly that we panicked. We traced dad's mechanic and paid him to salvage the damage, which he did neatly. Thankfully, the car had begun to experience rust, and the repair wasn't too noticeable. My dad never complained about it until today, even if he saw the evidence of repair.
Fate soon smiled upon me like a groom awaiting his bride at the altar. My mom bought a Honda Accord in 2009. I had no competitors since my older brothers were out of town.
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"Should we get mom a driver since she doesn't know how to drive?" My oldest brother asked me over the phone.
"That won't be necessary; we can have one on contract but not a permanent driver." I suggested. Deep within me, I had plans to drive the car.
"Alright then," he said. This was a win for me; I needed the car more for myself. The same year was when I entered college as a freshman. The car was mostly at home, and all I did was ignite the engine for a few minutes so as to keep the battery charged.
Going to driving school has never been a fancy thing for me. I had heard of the several days of theory and the limited days assigned to practices. On a fateful day when my mom had gone to work and left the car keys in my custody, I took my first and bold step to drive the car outside of my compound through a steep gate. I was lucky I didn't cause any scratches on the car; my nervousness seemed tamed, however. My street was not far from the main road, and my focus was to drive the car to campus, which had less traffic and also an opportunity to show off as one of the big boys on campus. Thankfully, the car was automatic, and my business with driving the car was limited—the forward space, gear, acceleration, brake/clutch pedals, and my side mirrors. Getting to the road was not difficult; the memory of my observations aided my acceleration. Well, I wanted to wind down the other side of the car window and gently pressed the knob to that effect. I enjoyed the view of the motion and sneaked to peek at the window coming down, only to realize the steering veered off to the middle lane and cause a shake of the car for a brief moment before I withdrew from my distraction and adjusted the steering. Here, my heart raced, knowing fully well the implication of a scratch on the car. I parked the car and stepped out to observe if any serious damage occurred, only to realize the rim of the tire was what was scratched a little. I signed in relief, entered back into the car, and drove into campus.
"Big boy, let's cruise around campus," Akin (actual name withheld) said happily as he hopped into the passenger's seat beside me. I returned the car home earlier than mom would, driving carefully and slowly to avoid accidents.
Eventually, I confessed my expedition to my mom, and even though she expressed concern, I managed to calm her nerves. We got a learners permit to drive around with, and for a couple of months, I had to stick with the learner symbol on the car even though I didn't like it. I became the unofficial driver of my mom's car, and to date, I enjoy driving her around town. Perhaos, my availability to drive her anywhere made her nonchalant about actually driving a car by herself, even to date.