Dec. 26, 2024

A faint pain in my molars reminded me how tightly I must have clenched them the day before. It was only then that I realized my stress level while driving in actual traffic for the first time — three years after receiving my driver’s license.

Driving had always felt irrelevant, even alienating, to me. My bodily agility is not as naturally developed as mental faculties, necessitating greater effort to master physical activities or coordinated maneuvers. I’m also a walk-aholic and prefer walking to any destination as long as it’s marginally viable. Indeed, I wouldn’t have prepared for the driving test but for the spare time between two jobs and the urging of my mother, who seemed to be yearning for any sign that I still had socially recognized pursuits and the ability to nail standardized tests. When my license arrived, it felt less like a permit to the open road than a certificate of merit, for which the default treatment is to be shelved.

In reflection, surely in the years since, there were occasions when I would have benefited more from driving than paying and waiting to be carried. Yet, I seemed to habitually rationalize the avoidance of something I perceived as beyond my capacity by downplaying its value and, in the constant preemption of any attempt, only entrenching the impression of ineptitude. Funnier still, I was aware of this loop; I just lacked the incentive to break out of it.

This year, though, I was peer-pressured (in a healthy way) by people around me discussing their license pursuits. Plus, my dormant curiosity was encouraged by the positive experience of some mini road trips I had with a steady squad, who demonstrated, with their whimsical carpool karaoke, how a long, cramped ride can be turned into a capsule of conviviality.

Then, in September, a friend who was picking me up from the station mentioned in passing that there were private coaches for hire to copilot new drivers’ initial rides. A quick search on Xiaohongshu confirmed that the service was pretty commoditized, in plentiful supply, and available for an acceptable fee of around 100 yuan per hour, with a vehicle provided and damage covered. And that was how I found myself behind the wheel once more, despite the teeth-clenching apprehension.

Compared to what I took at the driving school, the course this time was straight to the point, to the extent of being blunt: I was simply led to the driver’s seat and asked to start outright when I was still trying to remember how to shift and signal. (The car grumbled but moved after all.) In the following weeks, I drove with the guy in several three-hour sessions, sampling a series of driving and parking conditions with occasional instructions (and scolding) from him.

After four sessions or so, the coach told me that I was good to go but still less skillful than he expected, and asked me if I wanted to do supplemental sessions. I could tell it was an honest comment instead of a mere attempt to extract more money from me, but thought I had gained enough momentum to figure it out on my own. So I thanked him and started driving solo in rented cars, beginning with familiar spots in town before venturing to nearby cities and coastlines.

Having learned to drive for the second time, I came to recognize that driving is less about performing the correct maneuvers than seeing like a sedan (sorry, Dr. Scott). That is, becoming attuned to drifting through a world filtered through windows and mirrors, one that communicates with a tactile vocabulary via the wheels, and being both the subject and the object of motion. Over time, the experience began to feel quasi-meditative with the rhythmic hums, clicks, and vibrations — parallels I could draw to swimming, my favorite activity for introspection, which shares the isolated, monotonous nature. As if to validate the point, a couple of trips thereafter coincided with some less cheerful days, which I was able to ameliorate with the escapist pleasure in the cocoon of a car.

To be clear, I don’t see my refresher driving training as a come-to-Jesus experience: I’ve been and plan to remain a pious member of the Pedestrian Church, and driving will likely become no more than my occasional choice for farther excursions. Ultimately, it’s not the mastery of any particular means of transportation that matters but the mobility to navigate the world on one’s own terms, however modestly. To that end, I appreciate driving as a long-overdue addition to my options, a distinct one that furnishes a precious space of mindfulness, whether accompanied or alone.