Getting My Driver’s License

For the first twenty-three years of my life, I had a perennial headache. I thought that I was simply frail or delicate (Frail or delicate? Moi? Hrhrhr). Then suddenly, my headaches stopped? Why? I learned how to drive. I realized that the culprit is the driving of Manoy, our family driver of more than thirty years.

Note: You may be wondering why twenty-three years, when Filipinos could get a driver’s license at eighteen. Well, I’m such a klutz and slow learner that I had to renew my student’s permit for five years.

Don’t get me wrong about Manoy though. I love the old guy. He is fiercely loyal and dedicated to our family. Before I got married, I think I’ve probably spent more hours with him than any other person in the world. He took me everywhere and waited for me for endless hours – school, piano lessons, swimming lessons, piano recitals, swimming competitions, parties, soirees. He made sure that my feet never got wet when it rained and that not-so-acceptable boys kept themselves at bay. He was also my own personal assistant when I took the Philippine bar nine years ago. So never mind if he’s a clutch driver who is accelerator hungry complimented by his love for sudden brakes and driving too near speeding jeepneys.

So now I am back in this crazy great city of Manila after six years in Cambodia. I can choose to go around this city by a) enduring Manoy’s driving, b) getting myself pushed and kicked around in the MRT, or c) driving myself. I chose c. Unfortunately, my driver’s license has been expired for 5 years. When I was still living in Cambodia, everytime I visited the Philippines, I refused to renew my license because a) I didn’t want to take the disgusting drug test and b) I didn’t want to take the disgusting drug test. But now, unless I either wanted my childhood headaches to return or pack myself like a sardine in an MRT car, I had to take the disgusting drug test.

Read more in Toe’s Kurokuroatbp.