I drove a truck yesterday.

I have this fear of driving.

I’ve only been driving about four years. I took driving lessons in the city where I used to live and it was in the evenings and you can park a bus across a lane in the prairies. Driving in Vancouver however, is an entirely different ball game. It’s packed and stressful and people dart and weave, sudden stops are made, and it is CRAZY congested around here. Not to mention, I’m pre-conditioned to fear driving because I had two terrifying winter blizzard incidents, I was recently rear-ended, and a good friend of mine passed away recently, succumbing to a freak traffic accident.

Yesterday, I was tasked with driving a large truck.

It took everything in me – everything – to drive this damn thing. There is no back window; there is no rearview mirror. It is huge and awkward. The gear shift is shaky and I kept getting all the gears mixed up until I noticed that they are actually displayed on the screen, just below the gas meter. The vehicle lists miles first and then kilometers so for the first lag of my journey across Burrard Bridge to do what I was tasked to do which involved this truck, I felt like I should be going a LOT faster than I was.

But I did it.

I did it without an accident, I even got used to being high up in this bloody carseat, and I did it dutifully and without complaint (mostly).

This is a silly thing to write about. It really is. I think the point is that I conquered in a small way, a fear of driving this unknown foreign giant of a vehicle even a short distance. I even parked it and the park job wasn’t the worst.


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