My Drive to Drive, story by Daisy Bala (LEARNING TO DRIVE Poetry and Prose Series)

Silver Birch Press

daisy carMy Drive to Drive
by Daisy Bala

Grotesque and gullible drive it. Illiterate and irreligious can drive too, then why not me. I wanted to flaunt it too, perched in the driver’s seat, flashing my Ray-Bans, but my pounding heartbeat irked me. Many a times during trial driving, I maneuvered poorly, rickety over gas and brake pedals. Appalling is the word! My senses numb and white while my father would be crimson in anxiety (I was test driving his car). I tried and failed to my dismay, voluntarily or otherwise, dunno. But that tenacious itch always resurfaced. I wanted to brandish my style. After few unsuccessful attempts, abomination and nearly fatal scratches, I procrastinated it as a “to do thingy.”

After marriage and a kid, the spirit to do it was flickering low. However, when my kiddo had commuting issues, a commotion stirred inside me, fanning my vanities. I put…

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