Doing It Afraid: How I Earned My CDL Against All Odds

Courage isn’t taught — it’s activated

While recently visiting my Aunt Emma, I found myself telling a story from my journey back to life in the U.S.

After a year of seriously searching for work, my son-in-law suggested we both apply for jobs as transit operators.

Now… for my longtime friends who know me — you’ve seen me do a lot in my 20 years abroad. But driving? Never. So to go from not having driven in two decades to driving a bus?

What in the heezzyy was I thinking?!

Truth is, I wasn’t thinking about driving. I was thinking about needing an income. And my son-in-law believed I could do it. He kept reminding me, “They’ll teach you how to drive.”

Just as he predicted, we were hired on the spot. For him as an already experienced driver, the training was just about learning the routes. For me, it was like reinventing the wheel.

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From Knots in My Stomach to Knuckles Turned White

Step one: study the rules of the road for commercial drivers so I could pass my written exam. At the same time, I was expected to be learning the routes. I passed the written test on the first try — HalleluYah! Permit in hand, they put me behind the wheel.

But reading about bus driving or watching others do it is nothing like sitting in that seat yourself.

The first time I did, my whole body shook. My teeth were chattering. I kept adjusting the seat, trying to find the “right” position — really trying to maneuver the steering wheel around the massive knot in my stomach. My hands gripped the wheel so tight, my brown knuckles turned white.

We practiced in an abandoned mall parking lot, dodging orange cones, before heading into city traffic… and eventually the interstates of metro Atlanta.

Did the trembling stop? Nope. Did the white knuckles ease? A little. Did the knot in my stomach ever leave? Hell to the naw naw naw! I did the job afraid AF!

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The Big Test — and the Bigger Doubt

By the time my test date rolled around, the room was full of stories about people who had failed. As the oldest trainee, I often questioned whether I even belonged there. But God kept waking me up, so I kept showing up.

I was the last of the newbies to test.

On my big day the senior safety trainer called me into the office where four trainers sat waiting. He handed me a document to sign — it said if I failed today, my employment would be terminated.

I handed it back and said, “Wow! What a vote of confidence right before my test? Clearly you expect me to fail!”

He repeated the same words I’d read on the document. I snatched the paper up, signed it, grabbed the hand of the trainer assigned to escort me, and said, “Let’s go.” My back was against the wall — no signature, no test.

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Sneers, Texts, and a Parallel Parking Plot Twist

My trainer parked the bus at the testing lot and stood silently, sneering. I peeked over his shoulder and saw him text: This old lady is going to fail for sure. My jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

The examiner joined me, laid out the rules, and we got started: pre-trip inspection, parking lot maneuvers, and then the road.

The first parking maneuver was easy. Then came the curveball — parallel park the bus between cones. Right in front of my smirking trainer.

I’d been told we’d never need to parallel park a bus. Liars.

The examiner, my unexpected angel, told me, “You get three tries. If you hit a cone, put it in park, get out, and walk around the bus to assess your mistakes.”

First try — I hit cones. I got out, walked around twice, studying every detail. I could hear the wind in my ears and my trainer on the phone saying, “It’s a wrap from here.”

I rolled my eyes, got back in, and whispered a prayer: “Rise, oh Lord! Let those that hate me flee from before me.”

Mirrors — check. Adjust the knot in my stomach. Gentle pedal pressure. Slow turn… then a quick whip of the wheel to straighten out.

Stop.

The examiner was grinning. My trainer’s mouth hung open. He was now on FaceTime, shouting, She nailed that shit!

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Victory, Served Hot

The examiner said, “Come check your work.” My legs were shacking, but I stepped down and looked.

Perfection. Dead center. Not a cone touched.

The sneer on my trainer’s face was gone. I was wearing it now.

We hit the road for the last portion of the test — and I passed with flying colors.

I walked away that day with my Commercial Driver’s License in hand.

Mission. Accomplished.

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Reflection: Doing It Afraid

When I look back on that day, I realize the most important thing wasn’t passing my test. It was proving to myself that I could step into something completely foreign, feel the fear, and still move forward.

Courage doesn’t show up in the absence of fear.
It shows up in the moment you grip the wheel — knuckles white, heart racing — and do the thing anyway.

We often wait for the “perfect time,” or for confidence to magically appear before we take the leap. But that day taught me something I’ve never forgotten:
Confidence is the reward, not the prerequisite.

If you’ve got your own “big scary bus” in life right now — the thing you’ve been avoiding because it feels too big, too risky, or too new — maybe this is your sign to climb into the driver’s seat.

You don’t have to start with confidence. You just have to start.

💜 Ready to find out where your courage is hiding?
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