Let me tell you something about my father, he loves driving. Consequently, much of our father-daughter bonding over the years has involved cars: test driving them, watching documentaries on them, debating the best routes to take on long road trips and which off road experiences to try. In that way, it’s kind of become our thing.

One of my earliest memories is in the car that he had when I was little. He owned a midnight blue Mercedes Benz C250 and he drove me to school in it every morning. When I was in primary school, he’d bundle me into the backseat, making sure to include my schoolbag, P.E. kit, violin, flute or whatever other extras I’d need for the day.

Little me always wanted to hold the car keys. I’d live for the days that he was running late on the off chance that he would give them to me to unlock the car for myself. However, my father knew better than to leave mischievous mini me alone in an unmanned vehicle with the keys in my possession. And so, he always held onto them; even if the amount of time that I was left alone was the time it took him to put on his shoes.

But, there was this one day when I managed to get my sticky hands on them. My dad was running late and to my surprise allowed me to take them. I could hardly contain my excitement. Holding them made me feel like such a bad ass, a boss, a queen with inordinate power that my little thumbs could now command this piece of heavy machinery to bend to my will. It was exhilarating.

That morning, I skipped down the stairs with glee, opened the front door and with a flick of the wrist unlocked the automobile, clambered inside and took my rightful place.

“My car now”, I thought to myself as I shut the door behind me.

Surprisingly, little me did not immediately stick the keys in the ignition, for my first thought was safety. Generally, if I was ever inside a parentless vehicle, I locked the car using a button on the driver’s side and so, I instinctively went to push it. However, I stopped as I remembered that on this occasion there was no need for the button, for I had the keys.

Sadly, though probably for the best, we will never know what kind of chaos I had planned for that midnight blue machine, for upon pressing the keys and locking the vehicle, my subsequent movement triggered its alarm: startling me and foiling my plans.

I will never forget the fear I felt as the smugness on my little face melted into hysteria, my fingers as they frantically hit all the buttons on the keys or my hands as they desperately plead with the door handles to free me. Oh, and then there was my poor father, who ran out of the house in a panic to see his weeping daughter trapped inside his beloved Mercedes Benz.

Safe to say I never held the keys again.  

Lucky for our father-daughter relationship, our shared passion only grew from then. He started taking me along to show rooms when he’d test drive new models. I’d help him pick out cars and he’d let me have my turn in the driver’s seat, play along as I re-enacted car chase scenes, fiddled with indicators and shyly honked the horn.

On the way to and from dealerships, he’d give me verbal driving lessons. As we encountered certain situations, he’d narrate instructions: both good and bad practices on the road. He was like David Attenborough and road and all who use it were his Perfect Planet.

He’d teach me about defensive driving and how to navigate in heavy rainfall or icy conditions. He’d explain the pros and cons of a two-wheel vs four-wheel drive, standard vs sports engine and the mechanics that went into both.

When it was time for me to learn, he paid for my lessons and would listen with excitement as I mimicked his Attenborough like commentary: telling him about the manoeuvres I’d learnt, what routes I took and the crazy antics of drivers that I saw. His lessons were honestly one of my favourite things about our drives and I’m pretty sure they saved my life once or twice. 

The first time I ever drove a car alone was terrifying. I’d only had my car for 3 days and the conditions I was driving in were awful. It was dark, it was snowing and the roads were icy. For a moment, I thought I might crash. But then, amid the darkness and rising fear, I heard my dad; his Perfect Planet narration gently telling me all the things I needed to do to get home safely. 

My dad’s mysterious guidance is something I often experience, however not just in cars, but in everyday life. For years, I sat in the passenger seat of his car, quietly absorbing his words and lessons. I studied his rational and thought process. I took note of his behaviours and mannerisms. For years, I sat next to him, I didn’t even realise how much I was taking in.

It’s only on days when I’m met with an obstacle or I’m stuck, I hear my dad – his dulcet tones gently narrating things to calm me, gently teaching me all the things I need to succeed – that I understand the value of the things he has taught me. I tell you, many a life lesson was taught by my father while driving his car, many of which I hope to teach my kids one day when I’m driving them in mine.

Driving with my dad has truly been a blessing. And on this day, the day of fathers, I hope he understands just how much. 

And on that note – it’s been 20 years and I’m still waiting to get my hands on his car keys *Sip Tea*