Just Let Me Drive!

(Notes from author: This piece is a speech I wrote for a Toastmasters Pathway project. When writing a speech, I feel I have to focus on delivering a message the audience can take with them—usually something uplifting. As a result, it’s easy to slip into a bit of a “preaching” tone—which is actually something I reflect on within the story itself.)

If you’ve read my blog, you probably know that my husband recently went back to China. I call that my “mental vacation” :)… well, it’s over now—he’s back!

The day I picked him up from the airport, on the drive home, he didn’t offer to take the wheel as I expected.

Hmm… maybe he was tired.

Or maybe… he read my blog and decided to give me more space?

While I was driving and wondering, I suddenly saw his hand reach over—

Now, if you’re thinking he was about to put his arm around my shoulder…

your imagination isn’t bold enough.

Because instead—his hand landed right on the steering wheel. And he was holding it!

“What are you doing?”

I instantly felt a loss of control, panicked, and elbowed his hand away.

You’re on a straight road—why’s your steering wheel drifting?

“It isn’t drifting.”

“Yes, it is.”

His hand reached over again, trying to steady the wheel.

“See? Hold it still—like this.”

“But I don’t even feel it’s drifting,” I protested, clearly resisting—feeling unfairly picked on.

“I’m trying to show you, but you don’t want to listen!”

Already nervous about highway driving, I suddenly felt like I was losing control—not just of the car, but of myself.

“Why didn’t you just drive yourself in the first place?” I snapped.

Seeing I was annoyed, he went quiet.

But that uneasy feeling stuck with me.

This wasn’t the first time he’d nagged me like this while I was driving.

Why can’t he just let me steer my own way?

I know I’m not the best driver.

Maybe I was drifting a little—so what?

That’s how I drive.

I’m a certified driver, after all. I passed the G test!

To be fair, my husband is a sensible person—only sometimes, I hope he can be a little more empathetic.

For example:

I’ve had this bad habit of staying up late since my 20s.

Now, I sometimes struggle to fall asleep—sometimes even suffer from insomnia.

And when that happens, my husband can’t help himself:

“What did I tell you back then? But you never listened.”

I always roll my eyes when he says that.

Even though I know he’s right—and means well.

If only life worked that way—just know the right thing, do the right thing, and everything turns out fine.

Honestly, when we’re young, we do dumb things.

We make bad choices. We take detours.

And really—isn’t that just part of growing up?

Sure, I’m dealing with the consequences now.

But I don’t regret it.

Being young and restless just goes hand in hand. It’s a stage I was meant to go through on my early life journey.

And now that I’ve recognized the problem and want to change—

well, that’s part of the journey too.

Life isn’t a straight line.

It’s full of twists and turns—some nice, some messy.

Each of us walks a different path, shaped by our choices.

That’s what makes us unique—and that’s what makes life colorful.

Same with driving.

My husband believes I can improve if I’m willing to try and pay more attention.

And yes—I agree… in theory.

But I also believe we’re not all built the same.

We each have our strengths, our limits, our own way of doing things—shaped by personality, upbringing, or even just how our brains are wired.

At the end of the day, in the adult world, we all just want to go our own way.

No one likes being told what to do—unless they actually asked for advice.

And yet, in real life, we love playing the preacher—especially with the people closest to us.

We give advice no one asked for—sometimes out of love, sometimes out of habit—while we ourselves can’t stand being preached to.

I must admit, more often than not, I wear that preacher hat as well—giving lectures to my adult sons and hoping they’ll act the way I wish they would.

So I’m writing this piece as a reminder—to you, and also to myself:

When your partner—or your friend, or your child—isn’t on the same page,

instead of saying, “Here’s what you should do,”

try something more empathetic:

“I see you. I trust you. Even if your way is different from mine.”

And if they don’t take your advice? That’s okay.

Try to offer support, not solutions.

Because in the end, relationships aren’t about perfect driving—

they’re about riding together, through thick and thin.

Whether I’m driving straight, wobbling a little, or taking the long way home—

Just let me drive!