“STOP!” they shouted. I slammed the brakes and the car jerked to a halt, jolting all of us forward.

“When I say stop, do stop!” scolded Mum.

“Oh… aah… no…,” gasped my sister as she looked beyond me, into a gaping hole dug into the ground, bigger than our car, that we would have fallen into. My heart beat fast as I slowly and carefully shifted into reverse and backed up.

Learning to drive isn’t easy, at least not for a constantly zoning-out person like me. Anyway, what happened next was, I think, the most embarrassing part.

For the last twenty minutes of my turn to drive, and for half an hour before that, when it was my sister’s turn, a young chap had been riding his bike around the ground where we were practising. And no, it wasn’t normal biking. He was pulling all kinds of illegal and dangerous stunts, like a performer in some circus. I know that sounds mean, but he kept circling us, clearly putting both us learners and himself in danger.

I turned and steered the car towards the cricket pitch where I was supposed to practise when Mum, my instructor, noticed two policemen scolding the biker. I looked up too and saw them giving him one or two smacks.

“Ah,” I smirked. “Now he won’t even try to disturb us.”

Once again, my heart dropped into my shoes as Mum shouted, “Stop!”

Why me? Oh no. I would never decipher an instruction in one go.

“STOP!” they both screamed.

I pushed hard on the brake, making our guts somersault inside our tummies.

“When I say stop, you have to stop! You didn’t see such big rocks, beta? I thought you’d turn!”

“Oh, they were so big, Amna, I saw them from so far away….” my sister joined in.

Frozen, I slowly turned towards Mum, who had now shut her eyes tight in frustration. I shifted into reverse, hoping we could escape the rocks that way.

“No, switch to drive,” Mum said slowly.

I drove on. GRRRRRRRR.

“Stop. STOP!”

I braked, sighing.

“Reverse. Reverse the car!”

I reversed.

We jerked back suddenly.

“Stop, STOP!”

I braked, and then I saw them. Two huge rocks, far bigger than the bricks used to build walls, lay right in front of us. I gulped.

As we drove home, I sulked in my seat. I thought of never learning to drive with my mum again. I was annoyed, angry and hopeless.

But back at home, while washing my face, something struck me. Why lose the chance to learn driving over small, silly emotions that practically meant nothing? Learning to drive was far more important. My mum taking time out to teach me during my vacations was far more important.

I sighed. No pain, no gain. And no more zoning out, my brain!

Published in Dawn, Young World, February 14th, 2026

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