hogging the roads since 2007.

12th of December 2007 - the day I passed my driving test and attained my license. Today marks the 3rd anniversary of that day. Time undoubtedly and inevitably flies!

It seems like yesterday that I first sat behind the wheel and shuddered nervously when I was asked to drive at merely 40km/h. I remember climbing into the car next to my test instructor and taking a deep breath before starting. That was the first time I had driven without music from the alpine system in the car. I tried to remember the route I was given, but it came to me as nothing but a number. I kicked off my sandals (yes I drive barefooted) and checked my settings before starting off. Unlike my previous test instructor, this one looked remotely friendly so I gave a nervous sideway smile and set off. I focused and survived and he told me I was a smooth driver, which made me smile internally (and would have manifested as an ear-to-ear smile if I had let it). Upon reaching the centre, he refused to tell me if I had earned the right to travel the roads on a four-wheeler controlled by me. I trudged up the stairs behind him and sat down across from him at a table. It was there he handed me my score sheet and I had passed! I might have squealed there and then.

When I freshly passed, everything had to be by the book but now it seems estimation and gut has taken over. It ultimately becomes a task akin to swimming or cycling, where your body automatically takes over as though it is pre-set.

This maturation process applies to a multitude of things in life. Be it a caterpillar taking a temporary hiatus or morphing period in a cocoon only to emerge a butterfly or a baby graduating from sucking his or her thumb to lecturing in a university. Changes are all around us. But with changes comes the baggage of memories of the past. Some sweet, some painful, some happy and some sad and these inevitably become part of us. Whether we use these to our advantage and prevent history from repeating itself or we let ourselves sink into these and allow those emotions to erupt yet once again is entirely up to us. But no matter what we do with these memories, they get planted into our brains till anatomically erased by old age. They are part of us, and will remain part of us; especially if they mean a great deal to you.

In any case, I miss driving a manual car!