Road Safety
I love God. As a believer who professes to love Him, I commit myself to serve in my local place of worship as a member of the security department with numerous responsibilities. They include directing members of the local assembly to park properly to manage the available spaces in the Church. It also includes assisting to park their cars, as well as watching over parked cars before, during and after service.
This assignment exposes us to the good, the bad and the ugly. Sometimes, we are also exposed to the comical side, especially when the vehicle is driven by a learner driver. Today, I wish to share some of these experiences, starting with Bimbo Austen (not her real name), my acquaintance.
I have known her for over two years or more from a distance as a member of my place of worship. To her, I remained a security helper in Church or better put, a valet or valet attendant. Recently, however, my tag as a valet attendant changed from being a long-distance friend when she realised that my professional learning as a safety professional could sway her predicament.
My lucky day was the day she drove to the church with her front tyres not properly inflated. After the theatrics of reversing to park as instructed, she pleaded with me to assist with fixing her tyres. That was after it took centuries to park properly.
In fact, Bimbo is an exception to the hordes of virgin drivers who park with so much caution.
The Antics of Learner Drivers, which is the caption is not a mockery but a reminder of the road we all travelled before terming ourselves expert drivers. It is an instructive but humorous observation that reminds me of my first day of learning to drive in Lagos some years ago when my instructor, after a few hours, insisted I drive the vehicle back to Mofoluku, along the Oshodi-Isolo highway.
I first froze and bluntly declined to commit suicide. My stubborn instructor insisted and I must tell you that the sight and sound, as well as speed of vehicles beside me and those overtaking was frightening to say the least. As fate would have it, the vehicle arrived at its destination safely without a near miss, nor damage on the vehicle for which I was applauded for being bold and I dare say, daring.
Like me along the Isolo Oshodi highways some years back, learner drivers are a recognizable spectacle on most roads in the city center and even in the suburbs. Some are brave, nervous and occasionally terrifying souls navigating the world of motoring for the very first time.
These scenes are not peculiar to just our clime. Whether in Africa or the developed world, learner drivers have been a source of partial sympathy, amusement and mild roadside anxiety. What strikes you in our clime however, is the state of some vehicles used for learning despite the reforming strides of the Federal Road Safety Corps in upgrading the standard of driving schools as well as instructors and even proprietors.
Mandatorily armed with a provisional license, an ‘L’ plate and an extremely patient driving instructor, the learner driver, irrespective of status, embarks on one of the humblest experiences and journey of learning how to control a machine. Not on a lonely road but one with all sorts of drivers and vehicles-vehicles with potential to maim or kill, while at the same time striving not to destroy anything or harm anyone.
Please come with me as we explore the characteristics, antics, behavior and moments that define the learning driver experience. It captures the humor and a measure of understanding starting with the death grip on the steering wheel.
Counting on my experience, as well as the experiences of others that I have seen, this learner driver antic reflects the two-handed death grip on the steering wheel. I recall the moment I settled into the driver’s seat; I clutched the wheel as though releasing it for even a fraction of a second would cause the danfo vehicle which I used to learn, and possibly the open football field to spin out of control.
For those familiar with driving before FRSC reformed it, your instructor could be your neighbor, friend, or marriage partner. Mine was my mechanic. Like all instructors, he spent considerable tact, skill and patience trying to coach me into a relaxed grip but like most learners, letting go that grip, for me was suicidal.
So, my instinct was clear, simple and direct-hold that grip for your dear life. I remember squeezing the wheel with so much intensity like someone dangling from a fragile electric pole. My jaws clenched. Shoulders risen, with my danfo crawling forward at a snail speed of five to ten kilometers per hour while my body language could be mistaken for someone driving an articulated vehicle loaded with bags of cement.
My second antics like other learners was the complicated and continuous stare and deeply personal relationship with the brake pedal whose position was either a mystery or magic as I found applying the brake and staring on the road at the same time, too demanding a multitask for me.
While today I apply the break judiciously and proportionally, as a learner I treated the brake as a first resort rather than a last resort. My use of the brake was reminiscent of a specialized learning and training done at the California Highway Academy some years back whose details I would rather not disclose here today.
Any observer would mistake my use of the brake for a plot in a Nollywood production-approaching the roundabout? Brake. Slight bend on the road? Brake.
A surface pothole? Brake. The sight of any flying object, including a butterfly? Brake. A football player preparing for the day’s training? Brake. In fact because the player is human.it was a full and complete brake.
My driving style was best described as a practicing rhythm for a Kiss Daniel long awaited song-series of nervous acceleration and a brake, followed by a complete brake, irrespective of the object before and behind the vehicle. My mechanic who was muscular and tall later testified that my learning gave him neck muscles because of the constant braking at a time when the use of seatbelt in a vehicle was an odd act.
Let me cap this confession by sharing my struggle with my mirror lessons. Even most drivers who claim perfection still struggle with mastering the mirror. While some claim mastery, others struggle with either the inner mirror or the side mirror especially while reversing which is a sight I behold weekly while serving God in the place of worship.
Like other learners I was taught from my first day; mirror, signal, maneuver which to me reminds me of the FRSC pedestrian campaign captioned, look left, look right, look left. For learners, this is the most repeated of all driving instructions; yet the most forgotten because of the nervousness and the fear for your life. It is learning to multitask when you are yet to master one. The result is either muddling all or reversing the order depending on your level of freight.
For learners like me who are divinely privileged to be as tall as Julius Agwu, my legendary stand-up comedian, the mirror checks in a danfo which seat was not adjustable, was like a quick scan of the environment without really assessing the environment to be sure it was clear. For those who profess to be quick learners, the stare stretches for a long while the other briefs such as monitoring the road, suffers.
During this tense moment, the now impatient instructor snaps with an apology later. But if you were unlucky to be a female learner and had your husband as your instructor, the learning will come to an abrupt end because most husbands, from my findings, are the most impatient driver instructors. His simple and humble suggestion would be that a driving school will best suit your driving needs and antics for which he would gladly pay the cost.
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