One fine weekend I went out of town to visit family and jointly bask in the joy that God’s special blessings bring. It was a short, lovely trip, but the subject of this post is neither the indescribable warmth that the unconditional love of family can envelope you in, or the mischievous antics of my lovely little children (allow me to claim them in peace please). Rather, today’s gist is of how I got to my destination.
My brother with whom I was to make the trip decided that rather than take a taxi, we should drive.
For a bit of background, I’m that girl who thought she’d never be able to drive. It probably sounds silly, but the thought made me nervous. After putting off the purchase of a car for a while, one Saturday morning I was on my way out, waiting at the gate for transportation when it suddenly started to rain. Luckily for me, my sister had suggested I carry an umbrella just because. Even though it helped, it didn’t stop me from getting half drenched from the slant rain drops; neither did it stop the keke Napep that drove past and splashed dirty water on me. While laughing at myself and walking back home, I decided in that moment that I had stalled enough and it was time to buy a damn car.
Not long afterwards, I was lucky to get a good deal and so I got it, and got tarpaulin. After the car got a nice wash and I had taken a few pictures to share with friends who had teased me about my ‘carlessness’, I covered it up. After all it wasn’t going to be leaving that spot anytime soon. Only then did I enroll in a driving school, and I spent the next few weekends taking classes. Even after that, I always had one reason or the other not to – expired learner’s permit, no licence, bla bla bla, before I finally, finally ran out of excuses and got on the road. Hallelujah!
Thanks to Apapa driving, Danfo drivers and trailers have got nothing on me now. However driving out of Lagos on a highway was nowhere on my bucket list. And so when my brother suggested that we drive out of town, my first reaction was hell no! When I mentioned that I was travelling to a couple of my friends and they immediately assumed I was driving and were struggling to understand what my scruples were, I started to think it probably was not such an alien idea. By Friday night, I had made up my mind to just do it (Hello Nike!) and on Saturday morning I made an early visit to a service station to replace my four tyres and get my wheels balanced and aligned, and after a quick stop at a store to buy snacks for the kids (today’s equivalent of “Mummy Oyoyo!”. If you were born in my generation, try yourself and lie that you don’t know what that is!), we set out on our merry way.
Although I claim to hate driving, rides are actually nice. In the 1 hour 30 minutes or so it took us to get to our destination, we chatted about the randomest of things. From updates on the latest social media scandal to Big Brother and the issue of consent and consequences (or the lack thereof), to business and money, we succeeded in making the trip without any proper cursing of errant drivers. And after a lovely, lovely weekend, I did it again in the opposite direction, heading back to Eko with my bro in the front seat making sure we don’t take the wrong turn to end up in Benin City, and notifying me of when I need to “mash carbon”. We had a comfortable trip, got back home in one piece AND with bragging rights just because I grew a pair.
Here’s what that episode taught me: That thing you’re afraid of is probably not a big deal. If it won’t kill you to do it, go ahead and bite the bullet!