“Mom, I can’t do it,” I repeated, exasperated, for the second time since we started driving together the previous week. It was the summer I turned 17 and I was finally conquering my Achilles’ heel — learning to drive. The car moved slightly too much to the left. I hit the brakes and the car jerked, something that gave both my mother and me headaches. I thought of Newton’s law about opposite forces before remembering I needed to pay attention. Shaking my head a little as if to clear it, I focused back on the road and my mother.
“Try it again,” she said in Vietnamese. “Do you want to keep going today or do it tomorrow?”
Sighing, I murmured “today” and flicked my hand down, hitting the turn signal lever, before sliding my hand back up and gripping …show more content…
“Careful,” my mother urged in Vietnamese. I slowed, then turned — a tricky circular downhill left turn.
What if I do two turns instead, pausing in the middle?, I thought. Again, the car moved slightly to the left.
In my culture, the women are made to be dependent. Like many of the older Vietnamese women, my grandmothers never learned to drive when they came to this country. Instead their husbands or children drive them around. When I look at them, I know no matter how I scared I am or how many times I say it’s impossible, I’ll be the one driving myself to school, to work, to the library, to restaurants, to football games, to anywhere I need and want to do.
[Amazingly, I was learning to do this thing, this one thing, that neither of my grandmothers learned how to do.]
“Again?” my mother demanded.
“Mom, I can’t do it,” I …show more content…
Being able to drive every street and every turn is what would make me a driver, a title I wanted to be.
Balancing again between the slowing and the momentum, I told my mother my idea of transforming one turn into two.
“Go for it,” she encouraged in Vietnamese.
Bracing myself, I spun — very, very slowly — then stopped, and took a breath. Now in the middle of the opposite side’s lane, I quickly spun the car after looking around and — yes! — a perfect turn! Right into the lane! I gushed in my mind and smiled on the outside, in the car with my mother.
As my mother taught me how to drive, I taught myself how to stop being afraid. I grew up afraid of one day being in charge of my life. Learning to drive was the first thing that seriously challenged my confidence and the part of me that always gives my all. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Despite my fear, I’d never let myself depend on someone else for my future.
Learning to drive was the first step in growing up. As I grow more, I know there will be greater challenges. Each time, I will remind myself of who I want to be — strong, independent,
“Try it again,” she said in Vietnamese. “Do you want to keep going today or do it tomorrow?”
Sighing, I murmured “today” and flicked my hand down, hitting the turn signal lever, before sliding my hand back up and gripping …show more content…
“Careful,” my mother urged in Vietnamese. I slowed, then turned — a tricky circular downhill left turn.
What if I do two turns instead, pausing in the middle?, I thought. Again, the car moved slightly to the left.
In my culture, the women are made to be dependent. Like many of the older Vietnamese women, my grandmothers never learned to drive when they came to this country. Instead their husbands or children drive them around. When I look at them, I know no matter how I scared I am or how many times I say it’s impossible, I’ll be the one driving myself to school, to work, to the library, to restaurants, to football games, to anywhere I need and want to do.
[Amazingly, I was learning to do this thing, this one thing, that neither of my grandmothers learned how to do.]
“Again?” my mother demanded.
“Mom, I can’t do it,” I …show more content…
Being able to drive every street and every turn is what would make me a driver, a title I wanted to be.
Balancing again between the slowing and the momentum, I told my mother my idea of transforming one turn into two.
“Go for it,” she encouraged in Vietnamese.
Bracing myself, I spun — very, very slowly — then stopped, and took a breath. Now in the middle of the opposite side’s lane, I quickly spun the car after looking around and — yes! — a perfect turn! Right into the lane! I gushed in my mind and smiled on the outside, in the car with my mother.
As my mother taught me how to drive, I taught myself how to stop being afraid. I grew up afraid of one day being in charge of my life. Learning to drive was the first thing that seriously challenged my confidence and the part of me that always gives my all. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Despite my fear, I’d never let myself depend on someone else for my future.
Learning to drive was the first step in growing up. As I grow more, I know there will be greater challenges. Each time, I will remind myself of who I want to be — strong, independent,