The Monster Under the Steering Wheel
A story about how fear (even around things we love) grows in the unknown...and what happens when we finally take a risk.
My dad taught me to drive before I was legally allowed to have a license. That probably says something about both of us. What I remember most, though, was how quickly I fell in love with it. The control, the independence, the adventure. I’ve been a driver ever since. Road trips across states. Long solo drives to think. Singing too loud. Windows down. It’s one of the few things in life that makes me feel both grounded and free.
Even after I moved to Europe, I kept driving. Stockholm, Germany, France. Car shares, rentals, no problem. I kept up my habit of seeing the world from behind a wheel.
But when I moved to the UK, something changed.
I didn’t drive.
Sure, I had logical reasons. Cars are expensive. Public transport is excellent. I didn’t need a vehicle most of the time. But underneath all those explanations was a quiet, uncomfortable truth:
I was afraid.
Not in a panicked, white-knuckled way.
Just…uncertain.
Worried I’d forget everything.
Convinced it would feel wrong.
Driving on the “wrong” side of the road. Sitting on the “wrong” side of the car. Reversing with my left hand and looking over my left shoulder. My brain couldn’t quite imagine it. So I didn’t try.
I let the not-knowing keep me frozen.
And this is how fear works, isn’t it?
Not always as a loud NO.
Sometimes just as an endless series of gentle not yets.
"I’ll wait until I feel ready."
"I’ll do it when it makes more sense."
"I just don’t want to mess it up."
But fear feeds on avoidance.
And over time, the imagined monster becomes larger than life.
Enter: My Best Friend, and the Need for Adventure
When my best friend came to visit, we planned a couple of day trips. We needed to rent a car. Which meant I needed to drive.
And I did.
After two years of worry and almosts and what-ifs, I got behind the wheel of a car with the steering wheel on the “wrong” side. I pulled out of the driveway. I merged onto a roundabout. I drove down unfamiliar roads with sheep and ponies, down narrow roads in tiny villages, all with the best navigator laughing next to me.
And my brain?
Had adapted more than I realized.
It didn’t feel natural immediately. But it wasn’t terrifying either.
It took about twenty minutes. Not much more.
The monster I had built in my imagination was... just a shadow.
So much of fear is this.
Not danger, but unfamiliarity.
Not impossibility, but uncertainty.
The longer we stay away from the thing, the bigger it feels.
Courage doesn’t always show up in dramatic moments.
Sometimes it looks like booking the rental car and getting in anyway.
Sometimes it’s doing something you used to be good at, but haven’t touched in a while.
Sometimes it’s learning that you’re more ready than you thought.
What are you afraid of?
What fear are you living with that’s more about what you don’t know than what you can’t do?
What’s the “wrong side of the road” in your current season?
Where could you choose courage, not because you’re fearless, but because you’re ready to try?
If you're walking around a quiet fear that’s grown louder in your mind, I’d love to help you unpack it. Coaching can help you or your team to bravely look under the bed, turn on the light, and take the driver’s seat in their own story.
xx,
Leah