Driving alone is boring. That’s something I realized quickly. But boredom wasn’t the biggest issue—what really got to me was feeling stuck, with no job, and no real plan I could confidently talk about.
I’ve always believed that opportunities are everywhere if you’re willing to look at what you already have. And for me, that was simple: I had a car. Not the fanciest, not the fastest—but it moved. My friend, on the other hand, had something I didn’t: a driver’s license.
That’s when the idea hit me.
Why not team up?
I had the vehicle, he had the license. Together, we had something valuable—a way to move people and things, and maybe even make a living out of it.
At first, it sounded too simple. Too ordinary. But that’s the thing about business: it doesn’t have to be flashy. It just has to work.
We started by offering rides to a few people we knew—neighbors, friends of friends, even market vendors who needed to get home after long days. From there, word started to spread.
“Do you guys do airport runs?”
“Can you help move small items?”
“I need someone reliable to take my mother to her clinic.”
Suddenly, we weren’t just driving—we were providing a service. One people needed and trusted.
We didn’t have some big taxi company behind us. No app. No billboard. Just a simple plan: be on time, be respectful, and charge the correct price.
So we adjusted.
We started calculating fuel, time, wear and tear. We didn’t want to overcharge, but we also couldn’t afford to undercut ourselves. It wasn’t just about money—it was about setting a standard.
People noticed.
They saw how clean the car was. How polite my friend was behind the wheel. How we always confirmed bookings and communicated clearly. We weren’t just “guys with a car.” We were building something. Slowly. Quietly. But steadily.
There were days we made ₦10k. Other days, ₦20k. Then came weekends—busy, unpredictable, tiring. But on some of those days, we made up to ₦50k. Just two young guys trying to make something from nothing. I thought to myself, “If we can do this now, what could it look like if we took it even further?”
The money was important, yes. But what mattered more was what it represented—possibility. I didn’t have to wait for someone to hand me a job. I could build one.
Some people don’t get it. They say, “You’re just driving.” But I see more. I see a business that teaches discipline, customer service, budgeting, networking—all from behind the wheel of a regular car.
The funny part? I’m not even the one driving. But I’m working.
They say time flies. True. But how you use it—that’s your choice.
I chose not to sit around waiting. I chose not to let the fact that I didn’t have a license stop me. I chose to look at what I did have—resources, relationships, and a willingness to learn.
I respect every kobo we earn. That’s why we don’t just accept random prices. When someone asks how much a trip costs, we don’t throw out numbers just to “get the job.” We explain the value: the fuel, the time, the care. And more often than not, people understand. Because when you carry yourself with pride, people treat you with respect.
Now we have regulars. People who don’t even ask, “Are you available?” They just say, “When can you come?” Because they trust us.
That trust didn’t come overnight. It came from consistency, and from knowing our worth. That’s what correct price means to me. Not just the amount we charge, but the standard we live by.
And yes—driving alone is still boring. But when you’re driving with purpose? When you’re building something? When you know you're not stuck—you’re moving forward, even slowly? That’s a different feeling.
So here I am. No fancy office. No investor. Just a young guy with a car, a licensed friend, and a business that started from nothing but the decision to try.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this journey, it’s this:
Your value isn’t just in what you own. It’s in how you use what you have.
And if you respect your hustle, others will too.
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