Cam’s Blog

A tribute to my dad on his 48th birthday.

There comes a turning point in every father-daughter relationship when they both have to let go…

I was lying in bed one balmy Saturday morning, deciding whether 9:30 am is way too early to get up and start what promises to be another ludicrously boring day, when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. “Ma’am, gising na daw po kayo sabi ni daddy.” It was our maid, the one who insists on calling my parents, mommy and daddy. I grabbed a robe, brushed my teeth and headed to the kitchen, where I found my dad sitting by the counter, wearing a rather serious expression on his face and NOT reading the papers. Uh-oh. Quick mental rundown of possible screw-ups. Insane credit card bill? Nah. Even more insane phone bill? Nah, not due yet. Guy scrambling out of my room at 4am caught on camera? Not even a remote possibility. OK. Attack Plan: Operation Sunshine. “Good morning Daddyyyy.”, goes my ultra-saccharine-dad-can’t-resist- voice. “Sit down, baby, we need to talk.” Fuck.

“ Anak, …”  Selective inattention meaning anxiety escalating from mild to moderate. “that sometimes I forget you’re already 20….face a lot of responsibilities.” A sigh of relief, just another impromptu lecture on being responsible, anxiety back to mild. I spear a hotdog. “Anak, binilan kita ng kotse. Idedeliver mamaya.” Pupils dilate, fork drops in a clatter. “Whe??Talaga? No joke? Pramis?”, goes my very unsophisticated , kanto-esque blabber. My dad nods grimly. Then it hits me. MY-OWN-CAR. ALL-MINE. I jumped from my seat and do a little victory dance, complete with yodel. My dad closes his eyes, as if to say, “What have I done!” 

It was 4:15pm and I was a bundle of excitement. I have been waiting for, like, 2 hours, not counting my entire lifetime, for the car to arrive in my carefully selected driving outfit which consists of—a basic white tee, cropped shorts, my uh driving shoes(more on that later), Jackie O. shades and a Pucci-esque scarf. Then it happens. A honk. The gates open, revealing, a sleek, shiny silver Honda. It’s a boy! And I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that he will be named Colin. After Farrell, of bad-boy-sex-tape fame. Then the bearer of such gift emerges from the driver’s seat and hands the key…to my dad, which killed the drama a little. Then my dad handed me the key and said, “Test drive natin. You drive.” Then began the age-old ritual between fathers and daughters—the driving lessons.

Driving 101: Dad’s Rules

1. Respect the car.

No. The car will not be repainted pink while I am still alive. It will not be allowed to overheat. Change oil schedules are to be followed religiously. Car doors will be closed gently. Avoid gasgas at all times.

2. You don’t only learn to drive the car, you learn to wash it.

With your own hands. Not only because you still can’t afford to hire someone else to do it for you but also because it bonds you together. It makes you feel that the responsibility for the car is in your hands, literally and figuratively.

3. Know your car’s A&P.

Yup, anatomy and physiology. Nope, the mirror at the front is not for putting your make-up on nor for hanging love beads. It’s for checking your car’s rear end.

4. Traffic rules are made for you to follow them, not to get around them.
5. When the police officer flags you down, you stop and be courteous.

Not even you honey, Queen Mother of all Malditas, will intimidate him. Accept your mistake and do not, I repeat, DO NOT BRIBE HIM.

6. When I say, “Iwasan mo yung lubak para di masira agad yung kotse.” I also mean, “Iwasan mo din yung batang patawid.” You don’t choose one. Or if you really have to, choose the bata, anak.
7. The people around you are not stupid.

The cars will not suddenly dart from the sides knowing that you have the right of way. The pedestrians will not suddenly cross the street knowing that you will hit them. There is no need for continuous honking.

8. Jackie O. probably never had to drive on her own.

Meaning Jackie O’s shades covering you entire face is not exactly a good idea while driving. Also, while I do not have the slightest idea what driving shoes are, I am 100% sure they are not 3-inch skinny heel peep-toes.

9. The car gets you from point A to point B. It does not “get you off”.

I will explain this in a very discreet manner knowing that you are an extremely perceptive girl. The car will not be parked in dark, secluded places. The seatbelt will remain clasped. The seats will not be reclined. You, the designated driver, will not be found on the backseat.

      10.   Observe driver’s courtesy.

Matuto kang magbigay. Always use the signal lights and give other drivers ample warning. Do not use bright headlights when you have a kasalubong. P.S. Anak, sa tricycle, lagi kang talo. Pagbigyan mo na.

     11.   I did not buy you a car for you to drive away from me forever, although I know that someday you will. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, in fact, I say go! Chase your dreams! But the reason I bought you a car is for you to drive home and visit me and your mom once in a while, when you’re not too busy making your dreams a reality.

There comes a turning point in every father-daughter relationship when they both have to let go. But not today. Hey, it’s only day 1. I probably won’t even get past San Jose. Teach me more, dad.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 26th, 2006 at 11:16 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.