“You are not aware of your surroundings. You drove at 20 miles per hour on a 55 mile speed limit. You drove in and out several times during the parallel parking, you run a red light.” As she turned away, she added in a high pitched tone, “And you almost got us into an accident!… For these reasons, you have failed your test. You need A LOT of practice.”
“Thank you so much.”
She looked back at me puzzled.
I left the driving test lane parking by myself, the second time that morning that I had driven alone in more than a year. The drizzle that had blurred the windscreen as soon as the test began disappeared. Inside the office, I was directed to the front desk, a huge curved marble island where two receptionists sat.
“Okay,” the one said as she picked my form on which was written in bright red ink- NEAR ACCIDENT. FAIL. She was the young woman who had been helpful to me that morning guiding me through the forms and desks. “We have Friday as the nearest date. What time would you like to schedule?”
“Re-schedule?”
“Yes.”
“Uhh.” Friday was in two days. Had she read the form?
“We have next Monday? Would you like to reschedule then?” Her voice going a little higher as she took a glance at the line behind me.
“What about mid-September?”
“Ohh, okay,” she looked up briefly from her computer. “Mid- September? Alright.”
I had been driving since I was nineteen. It was the first holiday after the first year of University and father had pointed to mother’s car of many years. It was to be replaced with another one for her and I could have this one as my own. So began my foray into the world of car ownership.
A car. What a strange thing to share. What a strange thing it is to share anything. What a stampede it became. Blood drawn; the Axis powers versus the Allied powers. To my companion; a combination of steel and rose flowers; a lover of adventure, eager, impatient and magnetic- the height of testosterone, enforcing an unwritten agreement was a matter of will power. As for me, one third of three witnesses, the first who would not repeat the statement, the second, raising the weighty preliminary issue of birth order [which would arise again five years later on a more auspicious occasion], I would have gladly handed it over.
Eventually, we maneuvered an import of a little precious parcel of a car, which also narrowly survived a takeover during a season of Uber, ‘succession’ blood rites and our unspoken joint venture. After that, it was just us, then a child, then two, then three. Then it became just me for a while, driving up and down the school route, the hospital route, the home route. When I came here, I was glad to be immobile, a settled certainty after a whirlwind. I didn’t need to be anywhere, not on a Monday or a Sunday. A year went by.
The day before third baby’s first birthday I went for the road test. I really was not aware of my surroundings but I was hyper aware of internal monologues [which, on repeat become oppressive], the endless chatter of little children from when they awake to the moment that they sleep, the cyclical nature of domestic work and the hormonal rise and fall of prostaglandin. The world inside was small; revolving around smiles, diapers, tantrums and witty sayings. The world outside had changed and was moving at a dizzying pace.
After re-consideration, I upped the tempo for help to my co-driver, my American dreamer. I suspect that the thought of me skipping a red light on a Texas highway brought a chill to his spine, but here I was, here we were, on a five lane highway, YIELD rules, a map to read and fast moving traffic. It was time.
Two days before I went for the second test, the first round of flu hit our household. It was the first time I couldn’t make my own rounds around the house. My hearing on the side where the instructor would sit was almost gone, but, regardless of pale face, weak limbs and little hearing – giants must fall. I went back in the ring. The signs came. The weekend before, the oldest walked to me after church and with much seriousness asked, Mummy, Which car do you want? When I laughed at the question, he insisted, listing all his options. I picked the name I knew least, A GMC, I replied. Then, the night before, the younger one out of the blue turned to me and said, Mummy, make sure you look where you’re going.
I drove towards LEFT LANE again the next day. As I approached the end of the parking lot, I saw a monster of a car, a huge black pickup with nearly five foot wheels, and on a small sign on the front I saw the letters GMC. I couldn’t help but smile. So, it’s a win today.
“I just wanted to tell you, that you passed your driving test today. I’m going to take you through a few things, umm, …” she listed the things I had done right and the ones I had done wrong. Finally, she said, “You’re a safe driver…I’ll just go inside and get your forms ready…”
************************************************************
I had started to believe, some of the things.
*
Is it better to be ‘too little’ or ‘too much’ for a friendship?
*
The past three weeks have been draining. I’m kind of in the gutter. Do mothers get a day off? Is this the most rewarding job or just the most intense one? First it was me, then one by one, the fevers began. It feels endless.
The spiritual awakening at the helm of Nathaniel Bassey, Nigerian shakers in hand, traditional drums and dramatic dancing, we are spoiled for choice at what to criticize, what to love and what to hate. The world feels once again in subliminal suspense, almost as it did two years ago.
*
Happy 7th birthday Zedd R Z
*
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
*
PurplePretoria 