Driving Has Taught Me Some Patience
I wasn’t always patient. It took years, countless life experiences, and yes, the ownership of many cars to get here. Friends notice it now. Colleagues comment on it. Strangers sometimes remark on it in passing. I’ve never dismissed it, but I know the patience they see has been cultivated over a lifetime, and driving has been one of my quiet teachers. I started with ordinary cars, more about getting from point A to B than the experience. An old, rusty sedan I relied on just to get to work. Then came a series of small hatches: impulsive purchases fueled by youthful enthusiasm. Each demanded attention: coaxing reluctant engines, waiting for worn clutches, protecting fragile bodywork. Any patience I had then was practical, born of necessity. Frustrating, yes, but rooted in endurance. Over time, it grew deeper. Waiting became preparation; obstacles became lessons. As I matured, so did my taste in cars. I continued chasing a sports car dream, but life forced me to round off the edges of my i...