I often ask myself why driving seems to be something that everyone can do, yet I cannot seem to do it.

When I was a child in Vietnam, my mother drove me to school until I finished high school and went to university. By then, the traffic in Saigon was already extremely crowded, and I also rode a motorbike by myself, but every time I went out on the road, I was afraid and only travelled on familiar roads or places close to home.

When I came to Australia, I became even more afraid because everyone seemed to drive cars and I knew nothing about the roads or the rules. I had to start from the beginning again. At first, I could not afford to buy a car because I was renting and there was no parking space at home. Sometimes when I went to work, even though I was sitting in a car driven by someone else, seeing heavy rain on the highway, when I could barely see anything except water covering the windscreen while trucks rushed past beside us, made me feel afraid of driving.

For many years, I wondered and struggled with this, and I even blamed myself for being useless. But after I had children, I realised that I sometimes had to spend two hours taking my children to and from school for a place that would take only five minutes by car, simply because there was a bus route through the residential area that went in the opposite direction. There were days when I had to push a stroller with all the nappies and milk, hold my older child by the hand, and just as the bus arrived, my child would tell me that he needed the toilet and had already filled his nappy, even though we had just come out of swimming lessons and I had reminded him to use the toilet, but he refused. Even if I had brought another nappy, what could I do while standing at a bus stop? So, in the pouring rain, I had to push the stroller with one hand and hold my child with the other as we walked all the way back to the swimming centre so he could use the toilet, and he wet his pants before we even got there. I remember standing there with my child beside a bus stop where the glass had been smashed and threatening discriminatory words had been written across the bus sign, while my little boy kept asking me, “Mum, what letter is that? What does that word say?” because he was learning to read. I did not know how to describe what I felt. That one afternoon was a storm and a flood inside me, just like the rain falling around us. I decided to learn to drive despite everything that was happening to me and my family at that time. I put everything else aside and kept learning to drive without stopping. Even though my heart pounded every time I sat behind the wheel, I was determined to get my licence. I knew I made one small mistake during the test, but I had worked so hard throughout the whole process to correct that mistake, so I could not hold back my tears when I found out that I had officially passed and received my licence. It was not only a certificate of my determination to do something so ordinary that almost everyone else could do. It was a key that unlocked the chains that had kept me wandering for years, laughing with the sunshine and crying with the rain, together with two little lives who depended completely on this mother who already felt so fragile.

But once I was finally on the roads and became part of the traffic, I realised that this was life itself. It did not matter who you were behind the wheel. You had to learn how to deal with the whole world, right there, on those roads. No one knew that I was afraid of loud sounds such as car horns. They used their horns to yell at me when I slowed down even slightly because I was too frightened and did not know how to react, as if they were punishing me for some stupid mistake such as turning too slowly or slowing down, even though I was not creating any danger. I was simply causing inconvenience because I had become an obstacle on the road for everyone else. But I was also deeply moved by the moments when someone waited for me with such patience and understanding that I felt almost embarrassed because I was too scared to turn, while the car behind me simply waited. I did not know how to thank them enough. We were sitting inside two different boxes, but I believe that when people do something kind, they can simply drive away and smile inside their own cars instead of swearing at someone who may not even hear them, and that is what I hope they receive in return. The peace of their own mind, even when no one witnesses their kindness or thanks them directly, because everyone eventually has to keep moving and catch up with the speed of life.

The traffic system already exists. Google Maps exists. There are devices and tools to help us. But that does not mean I can manage everything with all those forms of support. The price of a mistake can be an accident involving myself or someone else. It is not like a conflict in a family or at work. It is a collision between metal and speed. I think there are roads that are built for everyone but simply not for me. City roads, for example, have so many signs and so much information that as a new driver I do not always know whether I should be looking for a motorbike, a scooter or a bicycle in my blind spot, while also looking at the GPS with all the anxiety that comes with it. The GPS may tell me to turn in 500 metres, but I am already overwhelmed and afraid that I will miss the turn. I have to watch pedestrians too, because not everyone crosses the road in the same way. Some people run across after their signal has changed, while others cross before the signal even changes. Sometimes I feel like a person with a learning difficulty who is being triggered by too many sources of information at once, while having no experience yet to know how to process everything.

And when I drive on the highway, I am constantly honked at and bullied even though I am certain that I am driving exactly at the speed limit. Trucks still drive extremely close behind me, as if I were a tiny bug about to be crushed because I am in their way. I do not know how much I am expected to exceed the speed limit before they will leave me alone, or why some cars overtake me while honking and making rude gestures simply because I am driving exactly at the speed limit and not below it. I began to question the rules and my own practice. And it is also like life. There are situations and variables that experienced people know how to handle. If someone is aggressive, you give way to them. But here we are talking about 100 kilometres per hour, and when I want to change lanes to let them pass, I do not know how to do it because every car around me is moving at full speed and there is no safe opportunity to change lanes. And because we are talking about such high speed, within only a few seconds those cars can show their entire attitude towards you. It is not one minute of someone having to tolerate you in everyday life. I feel that when people sit behind the wheel of a powerful metal box, they can feel even more entitled to bully someone else, because we simply drive past each other and no one remembers what happened thirty seconds later. In their eyes, those thirty seconds are just thirty seconds of frustration because another car is driving in the correct lane, at the correct speed, following the rules, doing everything right, but simply not driving the way they want. But those thirty seconds become a trauma and a kind of moral injury for me, because I keep thinking, if I am doing everything right, why am I still being treated badly and put in danger simply because someone sees me as an obstacle?

I do not mean the kind of honking that reminds someone who has stayed too long at a red light because they are checking their phone or have fallen asleep, or warns someone who is clearly driving dangerously or doing something obviously wrong. I use my horn too when I need to remind someone for the same reason, and I have never been bothered by that. What I mean is the long, loud honking that comes with anger, pressure, and threatening looks, as if you are being told, “I do not care that you are doing the right thing. You are in my way because I want to go faster and obviously I am exceeding the limits, and because you refuse to do what I want, I will make you feel that you are the one doing something wrong for refusing to exceed the limit for me.” Sometimes it feels as though simply following the speed limit becomes an offence when it prevents someone else from exceeding it.

But I do not scream that roads should be built for shy women like me. I know there are places where I do not belong. I do not force myself to drive into the city. I do not force myself to drive through areas that frighten me because the roads are too busy and dangerous. There are even places I have never visited simply because I feel anxious about travelling there by public transport. Life is already so wide and so big. Just focusing on doing my best and contributing fully in the places where I belong is already enough to keep me busy. And because I have never stopped learning, I choose to believe that the smaller spaces that accept my hesitation are enough for me to give everything I can in return for that kindness. It will never be enough to thank someone for their goodness, even if it is simply a good habit they have and they never realise that, somewhere on the road, they have just driven past a person who was deeply afraid of traffic.