Now that my chapter of becoming a road warrior is over, I have finally come to finish my chronicle my encounters. According to modern lingo, a road warrior is someone who does his work on the move, with the help of digital peripherals. But in my opinion, the true road warriors are those whose work is on the road. They are the taxi drivers, the lorry drivers, the army drivers, and of course, the driving instructors.
Like all teens my age, or at least the male ones, we have a calling for the fast and the furious. We have an inner desire to be speedsters, to take on the wheel and flash by. Such a calling has brought me to take on the first step into being a speedster – to face the evil traffic police and the trials put forth by the army of instructors.
The funny thing about instructors is that they all seem to be quirky. Having enrolled in the 'school' system, I was fortunate to have a fixed group of instructors, but with my last minute bookings, I was often allocated to other instructors. That makes for a more 'enriching' experience, as I get to see the quirks of a handful of instructors.
One thing to note about these instructors is that they all have the instructor set of superhuman powers. Firstly, they have shared vision – the ability to see exactly what you are seeing. They can be fiddling with their pens, or even shaving (yes, believe it. I almost crashed when I saw him doing it), but the moment you take your eyes off the road, you'll get a “Eh, you drive no need to see is it?”. They can even tell if you're looking at the right mirror or not. All of them must have gone through lasik to get compound eyes or something. And then there's the spider senses, you know, like spiderman. They can anticipate danger without even looking. There was this one time, when I was about to take a corner turn, then the instructor e-braked the car. I just gave him a puzzled look, but he replied by pointing to the edge of the windscreen and out popped an old man about to cross the street, as if he was planted there. I swear that these instructors station pedestrians around on purpose.
Like all teens my age, or at least the male ones, we have a calling for the fast and the furious. We have an inner desire to be speedsters, to take on the wheel and flash by. Such a calling has brought me to take on the first step into being a speedster – to face the evil traffic police and the trials put forth by the army of instructors.
The funny thing about instructors is that they all seem to be quirky. Having enrolled in the 'school' system, I was fortunate to have a fixed group of instructors, but with my last minute bookings, I was often allocated to other instructors. That makes for a more 'enriching' experience, as I get to see the quirks of a handful of instructors.
One thing to note about these instructors is that they all have the instructor set of superhuman powers. Firstly, they have shared vision – the ability to see exactly what you are seeing. They can be fiddling with their pens, or even shaving (yes, believe it. I almost crashed when I saw him doing it), but the moment you take your eyes off the road, you'll get a “Eh, you drive no need to see is it?”. They can even tell if you're looking at the right mirror or not. All of them must have gone through lasik to get compound eyes or something. And then there's the spider senses, you know, like spiderman. They can anticipate danger without even looking. There was this one time, when I was about to take a corner turn, then the instructor e-braked the car. I just gave him a puzzled look, but he replied by pointing to the edge of the windscreen and out popped an old man about to cross the street, as if he was planted there. I swear that these instructors station pedestrians around on purpose.
These instructors are truly diverse. There are the really nice ones – like this very uncle type instructor who coaches me as if I'm a little schoolboy. Kinda childish, but his fatherly mannerism makes you feel assured and safe on the road. Then there are those who gets closer to you by acting as your buddy. Like my unforgettable favourite instructor who first greeted me with a very warm “fuck you lah”. And that my friend, is how you start a beautiful friendship. Despite his less courteous ways, he makes up for it by having a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve. It's these tips and tricks that you want to know to get you through the senseless driving courses, like how to brake smoothly and where to look to straighten the vehicle. Then there was this instructor who looked exactly like my BMT IFC instructor. When I first met him, I was kinda intimidated as he was a big bald guy, and his other lookalike was my former company's public enemy. But before I knew it, he flashed me a dorky smile and gave a hysterical chuckle. Definitely not corporal private enemy.
And then there are the instructors who are just a nightmare. First there's mister sleepyhead. It's irritating when your instructor sleeps on the job. Firstly it's not value for money, since you pay tons for an hour and forty minutes with them. When faced with these buggers, I can't help driving in the circuit at 40km/p and doing jerky turns. It kinda attracts the attention of other instructors. Up next are the super paranoid ones. You can tell they're this type if they keep their foot on the brake, arms crossed and eyes peeled as if they're looking out for the grim reaper. I know it's good to play safe, but how can a trainee drive confidently if the instructor regularly tests the efficiency of the car's braking system?
Having seen things from a driver's perspective gives you certain insight into the mentality of a driver. For instance, while I was jogging, I discovered a highly efficient method of stopping cars. Stare straight into the eyes of the motorist. Nothing scares them more than to potentially see the eyes of a victim if they were to knock you down. Give them that look that says “If you knock me down, these eyes will haunt you till your grave”. Works like a charm.
Seeing the cars zoom by while jogging also provoked some consideration as to what colour my car should be when I get it. I've settled on a dark red. Not the bright cheery red, but the dark bloody type. The red not like that of fresh blood, but of dried blood. Kinda sends out the message to other drivers that this car has tasted blood. That's way cooler than the Ferrari red.
So next time when you see a sinister red car humming by, scurry away. Your blood could be next.
No comments:
Post a Comment