It is not in my nature to boast. But safety always comes first to me.
For instance, when I decided to take driving classes, from that very instant when I got behind the wheel beside the experienced lady instructor, I knew I would walk out of the driving institute not only with a driving licence in hand, but also with a pledge to ensure a safe driving environment.
A friend who was an experienced driver on Dubai roads explained that it was good to drive with an open mind.
It is good to bear in mind that there is every kind of driver on the road, she had warned.
There is this over-confident newbie who basks in the joys of his/her newly-acquired freedom — the licence to drive. The racing freaks who view the road as their very own Formula One race track and compare their driving skills with the likes of Sebastian Vettel or a Lewis Hamilton. The adrenaline junkies who wish to rise to fame by attempting and filming dangerous stunts with their cars. The jugglers who believe that driving must be multi-tasked with adding the final touches to makeup, texting and taking a peek into social media among many other jobs that give them the satisfaction that they are indeed the most superior species reigning on this planet.
And lastly, the group of drivers who brake when they see the green light turn orange a mile before the signal and drive so slowly and cautiously that walking all the way would be a better option!
So I knew that there was a need for a safe driver on the road.
On my first day on the road, the instructor, who had boasted of her years of experience and expertise, choked, wheezed and mumbled under her breathe with her palms folded tight in what looked like a prayer — occasionally bracing herself nervously.
There were just a few incidents: Driving up onto the pavement, reversing onto a dustbin with a loud thud — spilling some of its contents — and triggering a moderate tailback of school buses and other vehicles, hooting in alarm when I unnecessarily braked in the middle of a busy road.
But every one of my actions was intended on saving a human life — humans who had appeared unexpectedly into my line of vision. One of them even had the cheek to point out that I should not have been on the pavement in the first place.
At the end of the class, my instructor took my hands in hers and with tears in her eyes, she thanked me profusely. She even mentioned having children at home. The poor lady must have been depressed. After all, balancing a job of making reliable and safe drivers out of novices like me and handling children back home was no easy task.
Strangely, that was the last I saw of her.
In the classes that ensued, I was assigned a male instructor.
All through the first class, he sat rigid as ice, staring, not once uttering a word. He must have either been a fan of the ‘Iceman’ Kimi Raikkonen or was perhaps simply in awe of my driving capabilities, as he just sat there — his hands folded as he kept staring ahead.
However, he warmed up in the classes that followed for I often heard him say, between deep breaths, that I was a “rare” sort of student. One among the very few, he said, that he would never forget. He even told me that I was talented enough to do things with the car that even the manufacturer had failed to think of and that it was a blessing that self-driven cars would soon be a way of life.
Nevertheless, after 50-plus classes and having picked up a thing or two, I passed my test.
When I went to thank him with the news, he appeared to be relieved.
He must have had some hair-raising experiences, for he said he was planning on a career change!
Pranitha Menon is a freelance writer based in Dubai.
