10 and 2

“Remember: you’re the only sane person on the road. Assume everyone else is an idiot.”

That was the first rule my driving instructor gave me. The second was shorter:

“10 and 2.”

For years, those numbers echoed every time I grabbed the wheel. But when you’re a new driver, keeping your hands at 10 and 2 feels less like control and more like punishment. Within seconds, your forearms burn. The full weight and responsibility of driving a two-ton metal weapon settles directly into your joints. Exhausted and irritated, you start to question the teacher: Who actually drives like this? What kind of guidance was I given?

It took a pitch-black night for the truth to click.
Driving after sunset, the illusion of control vanishes. The road disappears into the dark, and you suddenly realize you can’t really see where you’re going. Instinct takes over, and of their own desire, my hands gravitate right back to that 10 and 2 position.

Suddenly, keeping the car centered in the lane was effortless. The arm fatigue that felt unbearable an hour ago completely evaporated against the high stakes of staying alive.
That was the moment the realization hit me: following the manual often feels like a drag until you actually need it. We buy things and insist on using them our own way, treating instructions like optional suggestions until we’re forced into the dark.

Instruction manuals aren’t there to restrict us; they are refined survival guides built so that anyone using them can find the best practices possible. 10 and 2 isn’t about rigid perfection it’s the posture designed to keep you from drifting into a ditch.

And it made me wonder about us. Like everything created with purpose, we must have a manual set of best practices for this pile of dirt breathing life. When the sun goes down and the road ahead disappears into darkness, we realize we were never meant to navigate the terrain on our own intuition. The Bible stands as that blueprint, a guide built for the precise design of human beings.

Yet, we ignore the instructions until we find ourselves drifting toward the edge. Which leaves only one question: would you believe such a grand, chaotic, and pulsating story for your very soul?