The Road Mishap

I learned how to drive at age six when I could barely see the road if not for the air-vent below the windshield of our Willys type jeep with dual power transmission.  Tatay named this jeep and all our succeeding jeeps “Edlouglen,” an acronym he created by combining our first names: Edgar, Louella and Glenn. 

As I drove in earnest, Tatay sat on my left side, literally barking instructions. This is one of my fondest memories of Tatay—affectionate—but fit to burst eardrums with his booming voice. I swear our neighbors could hear him whisper!

My driving lessons actually started way before, while still a toddler, when Tatay would make me sit on his lap as he drove, four hands on the wheel, his in the classic ten and two o’ clock position, mine both on the six o’ clock position, barely able to hang on but projecting a steadfast, impervious and smug mien.

I had my litmus test when Tatay allowed me to drive from Kalibo all the way to Libacao at age 9. By the time I applied for a driver’s license, I was shocked to hear him say to the examiner: “you’d better make sure he really knows how to drive or else …” Tatay used to be with the now defunct Board of Transportation. He passed on in 1995.

On Saturday, 02 June 2012, I had my very first accident on the Kalibo to Libacao road. It has been raining for several days and on the zigzag portion going down around a 30 degree elevation in Polo, Banga, the tires slipped and the van slid into a ditch on the right side of the road. There was no way for me to reverse out of the rut.

Fortunately, we were unhurt (I was with Baby, my sister Louella’s ever loyal Yaya who has been with my family even before I was born). The van suffered just a minor damage with its right front wheel bent out of shape because of the rut.

I am thankful I did not step on the gas and attempt a hard swerve to the left to avoid going into that rut because had I done so, I could have overcompensated and we could have jumped into a ravine or ended up sliding down the river had I missed the bridge just around 15 meters down on a hard right turn.

The stuff we had with us was a mess. The floral arrangements I ordered and picked up from a florist fell off from the seats and got mashed. Everything else came out of their perches. All these were for the offertorio of the funeral mass for our Dear Auntie Alice that my sister Louella offered. The late Alicia Inosanto Zonio-Isagan, (retired public school principal and former Vice Mayor of my hometown, Libacao, Aklan) was one of our favorite Aunts, which is why I had to go home to LA to pay my last respects.

So, with the van unable to go anywhere, we started hailing jeeps and mini-buses to get to Libacao. We were not even halfway there yet. Unfortunately, he had too much luggage that required seats as well, seats that were unfortunately not available as most of the public transport vehicles were filled to the rafters.

People who saw the abandoned van on a ditch by the roadside would invariably say: the driver must have been drunk. In fact, when we got to Libacao, I was told of this accident in Polo where a drunk driver ended up in a ditch. Their eyebrows inevitably shot up when I told them I was the driver.

How did we make it to Libacao in time for the funeral?

We hailed (shanghaied) the funeral car. The owner is a cousin on my father’s side. The personnel on board had to transfer to their support vehicle, a diminutive multicab where they were forced to stand at the back, in the rain. Our stuff was now safely ensconced in the area where the coffin goes. And yes, I did not ride lying down; Baby and I were sitting in front.

Now I can say, without batting an eyelash, that I was able to get somewhere on board a hearse.

Have you had that experience? Are you willing to give it a try?

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