A journey into Freedom

Getting a driver’s license is perhaps the biggest expression of freedom and a rite of passage into adulthood for many teenagers. The ability to drive a car opens up a world of possibilities that cannot be replicated by hailing a taxi or an Uber/Lyft. We enjoy journeys when we are in control of where we are going, and life in the passenger seat is not very exciting esp. if it was never your choice to be there.

For all my adult life in India, I was very scared of driving a motor vehicle. Automatic cars were not commonplace during the early 2000’s in India, so the idea of changing gears (in stick shift cars) while driving brought on images of horrific accidents that kill over 100,000 every year in India. As a result, I never dared to learn to drive a motorcycle or a car. It was one of those things that I had internalized as something I couldn’t do, ever!

I have always occupied the passenger seat of any car. Every time I took an Uber or Lyft or a metro/train, I was reminded that these mediums of transportation were my crutches, and I depended on them every day because I didn't have the option to drive a car. My version of John Denver’s “Country Road take me home” would be “Country Road and my Uber/Lyft driver please take me home”. When I moved to Chicago, I enrolled in driving classes. Over 20 hours of driving classes, $1500 in fees, and 3 failed attempts later, it was clear once again. I SUCKED at this. Big Time. Why did I even try? My feelings of shame and feeling inadequate were so strong that when I moved to Minneapolis a few months later I moved decided that I wouldn’t even try to get my driving license here. Car driving was just not for me.

Things changed in June 2019 after I got married. My wife had only one request — that I should get a driving license, so that we both can explore Minneapolis, and the rest of the Midwest and this country on our own terms without depending on flights and trains for all travel.

I could have easily said No to my wife but I didn’t. I had made peace with my decisions and had internalized my “shame” but negatively impacting my wife’s quality of life due to my own shortcoming seemed selfish and I didn’t want to start our marriage on this note.

So, on July 9,2019, less than 30 after my wedding, I decided to face my fears again and enrolled in driving classes in Minneapolis.

JJ was a cheerful, happy-go-lucky guy who was also my driving instructor. A Somalian immigrant, who had come to Minneapolis in early 2000’s just after 9/11, JJ had many stories to share. Spending two hours with him twice a week, was a pleasure. I would share my own stories of moving to the US as a student, and then working at a highly respected Minneapolis based company retailer.

In me, JJ saw the future he wanted for his kids. He wanted them to live the life I was living -to have a well-paying corporate job in a city that he called “home”. Even though his “home” has never accepted him or anyone who looks like him. The result of this indifference and discrimination would soon culminate in the barbaric event that unfolded less than a year later on May 24,2020 , just a few miles from my house.

When I was with JJ, my nervousness while driving was definitely decreasing, but they seemed to have me in their firm grip during the driving test. But something interesting was happening now. Every time I failed a test, I felt terrible for a day or two, but I no longer felt any shame and I definitely didn’t even think of quitting or giving up. I was truly enjoying the “process” of learning to drive. During our driving practice, JJ would take me to different parts of the Twin cities that I had never seen before. A year after moving here, it was the first time I was seeing and understanding this city, its people and its neighborhoods.

It took me four attempts, and finally on Feb 24,2020, at the tender age of 34, I finally got my first and only car driving License.

Since then, my wife and I have travelled over 20,000 miles in our new car and have explored and experienced Mt Rushmore, Nashville, Yellowstone and many more places. But none of this would have been would have been possible without JJ. As I was writing this piece, I realized I never asked JJ his full name. I texted him yesterday and we plan to catch up next week. JJ changed my life, the least I can do is call him by his real name.