The edge of the precipice

X ilkley weekend 050

Driving home, there was one of those moments of sheer, unadulterated joy when the fields were lit with pale sunshine, the sky a clear blue and the feel of the car around me occupied my whole being. I can’t think of a better way of putting it. It is one of those things for which words seem too small. Yet, you could argue, it is only a car… getting on a bit, less than perfect and just a machine.

On the other hand, what it means to me, personally, is something quite different. The world inside the car is a place out of the ordinary. It is a haven from importunate necessity, an oasis of silence in spite of the roar and rattle it carries with it; a place where thoughts can blossom and bear fruit. It is possibility, control and freedom… and sometimes escape. It allows me to serve the needs of everyday life, as well as to follow my heart into the hills.

In itself, it is none of these things. It is just a metal box on wheels. It becomes, however, the symbol for all these things and more because it is the vehicle of my choices.

It took me a long time to pluck up the courage to learn to drive. I had started… had my first lesson… in my late teens just before a drunk driver ploughed into the car in which I was a passenger. A fractured skull and a rearranged, reconstructed face left me too afraid of cars to try and drive again. The blow to the fragile self-confidence of a teenager was profound and the scarred face itself a major life-lesson it took many years to appreciate for the gift it was.

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Over the years many people encouraged me to try and learn to drive. It was nearly twenty years before I found the courage to try again and only then because I felt it necessary when my partner was terminally ill. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise… I was too scared and had absolutely no confidence in my ability to become either safe or proficient. Fear had me completely caged, but I came to a point where I felt ready to tackle the bars of my self-imposed prison.

Perhaps those who had encouraged or pushed me to learn earlier were right. Or perhaps I would not have had the confidence to learn before I did. I may have missed years of enjoyment… or avoided a potentially lethal fear hitting the road. Who knows? Be that as it may, I made a decision and went for it.

All I do know for certain is that by the end of that first month’s lessons I was hooked. I loved it. These days, even some twenty years later, there are few places I am happier than behind the wheel. I love driving. Facing the fear had proved it to be no more than a shadow and, critically, one I finally realised that I had adopted and accepted as a habit. The car, previously a symbol of distress and panic, became a thing of confident joy.

It is often the way. There are choices we have to make, fears that we have the opportunity to face; personal precipices where we stand on the edge looking out over what seems to be a huge gulf of terrifying uncertainty knowing you can only fall or fly.

There is a moment of calm and clarity when you know that you can choose your course of action. There may be those who urge you forward or who seek to pull you back, holding you in safety away from the edge. Yet while their advice and counsel may inform your decision, you are the only person who can make that choice. You are the only one who has the power to choose what course of action is really right for you at that time. It is only necessary to be genuinely prepared to face the moment and make a conscious choice.

You may choose to turn away from the edge… to step back into the safety of the known. You may choose to step off the edge of the precipice, knowing that you may fall.

And sometimes you find that you have wings.

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36 thoughts on “The edge of the precipice

  1. Like you I started to learn to drive when everyone else did, but moved to France before I’d mastered anything. I only learned to drive almost twenty years later when we thought we’d be moving to the countryside. We didn’t, we moved to another town and we didn’t get a car, so I never drove. Now we have a car that in theory I could drive, but I can’t. I have absolutely no empathy with the thing at all. I’ve forgotten everything I learned and can’t even get it to start most times I try and when I do, I haven’t a clue how to get anywhere in it. My sense of direction is non-existent. Even left/right poses problems. Husband suggests I take lessons but learning to drive was one of the most soul-destroying, humiliating things I ever did and I refuse to do it again. Some people just weren’t intended to drive.

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  2. A lovely post, Sue, and it’s clear to see, over the years of reading your blog, how being free to travel and ultimately explore your world has enriched your life (as well as ours). I’ve often found that while fear is a mightly monster baring sharp teeth, when confronted, it shrinks to the size of a mouse, and I wonder at what took me so long. Happy Driving!

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  3. Thank goodness you went back to driving Sue, I love the freedom that it offered me and can only imagine how liberating it must be for you with all the travel you do by car around Britain. Like you I started lessons but then ran into life and its issues. Took it up again when I was single and passed first time and felt I had achieved the most amazing challenge. I love a road trip and the last one Portsmouth to Madrid both ways was so much fun. great post and love the photos.

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  4. I used to be a fearless driver too Sue – that was until our city became a jungled nightmare of traffic of incompetent drivers. Now, it’s high anxiety for me. Yet funny, when I’m on vacation, I’ll drive anywhere. I do drive here, but as least as possible and never downtown! 🙂 xx

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  5. Ah, what a wonderful fear to overcome Sue. I learnt to drive just before I moved from Edinburgh to Cambridge so it was very fortunate timing as I needed to drive some distance to work every day. I struggled to pass my test due to nerves. It took me 5 attempts, so when I did it was such a moment of joy!

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