Driving with a Goat

I was 18 years old when I started to drive.  After a few days of learning to drive a jeep from  a driving school in Manila, and a quick practical test of parking (with the examiner standing from his office and looking out at the car park area), I managed to get my first driver's license.  I only still had my probationary license at the time, which looked just like a docket of no consequence but it gave me the privilege of  being able to drive the streets of Manila and even beyond.  On my 18th birthday, I did just that, driving beyond the outskirts of Manila. I drove with my family from Tandang Sora to small town in Bulacan called Bagombong if I remember right.  My parents'  godchildren Uding and Paniki lived there out near the rice fields.  We went there to obtain a goat to kill for my birthday.  Yes, caldereta would be nice.  The whole family was with me in the jeepney we bought.  Well, not quite the whole family because my brother Sammy didn't come for some reason now forgotten.  The jeepney looked like a common one with rainbow colours and plastic frills which swayed vigorously in the wind as you drove.  It seated probably 12 to 14 people.  It wasn't new by any means but it boasted of one thing - it had a Mercedes Benz engine and it consumed of course Diesoline.  I supposed that made it stand out albeit not it an obvious way.  My dad would always boast about it - "That's really a Mercedes you know."  So I was proud to drive it that day when I turned 18 and I was the one behind the steering wheel of a Mercedes Benz jeepney.  We got a goat of a good size and I could already see it cooked despite its helpless gaze behind those thick-lashed eyes that seemed to know its day of execution. We left Bagombong with the extra passenger.  We crossed the town of Novaliches on the way back to Tandang Sora.  Not too far away from Novaliches, I in my audacity and overconfidence overtook another vehicle in front of us.  Coming from the other direction there was another vehicle which I believe to be a jeep.  I quickly got back to the right lane but my front left tyres met with the other vehicle in a kind of  menacing kiss.  My quick move was not quick enough and our jeepney ended up swerving 90 degrees to the left.  Then I suddenly stopped - just in time.  A couple of inches more and we would have all fallen into a cliff about 20 feet deep and killing myself and my family and the unlucky goat.  There was a lady in the other vehicle who got a little bit hurt.  My parents spoke with their passengers to arrange things and make things right.  Driving is indeed a privilege and with that comes also a responsibility.  After this event I didn't drive again for a while.  I didn't even get to convert that temporary license to a proper license.  It wasn't until about 8 years later when we were already in Sydney that I got a proper license.  I made other mistakes driving after that but the episode with the goat is one that clings to my memory like superglue.  I'm so glad and thankful to God that I didn't end up ending the lives of my family.  Had that accident turned into a tragedy, only Sammy would have been the lone survivor at the age of 13.  God had other plans. Was a lesson learnt?  Yes.  Don't drive with a goat.