<p>Cha Sa-soon lives alone in the mountain-ringed village of Sinchon in Wanju county, some 180 km south of Seoul. <br /><br />This diminutive woman, now known nationwide as “Grandma Cha Sa-soon”, failed her driver’s test hundreds of times but never gave up. Finally, she got her licence — on her 960th try, New York Times reported on Friday. <br /><br />For three years starting in April 2005, she took the test once a day five days a week. After that, her pace slowed, to about twice a week. But she never quit. <br /><br />Cheerful loser<br /><br />Hers is a fame based not only on sheer doggedness, a quality held in high esteem by Koreans, but also on the universal human sympathy for a monumental — and in her case, cheerful — loser. <br /><br />“When she finally got her licence, we all went out in cheers and hugged her, giving her flowers,” said Park Su-yeon, an instructor at Jeonbuk Driving School, which Cha once attended. <br /><br />“It felt like a huge burden falling off our back. We didn’t have the guts to tell her to quit because she kept showing up,” said Park.<br /><br />After she got her licence in May, Hyundai-Kia Automotive Group, South Korea’s leading carmaker, started an online campaign asking people to post messages of congratulations. Thousands poured in. In early August, Hyundai presented Cha with a $16,800 car. <br /><br />Cha said she had always envied people who could drive, but it was not until she was in her 60s that she got around to trying for a licence. “I was too busy raising my four children.”</p>
<p>Cha Sa-soon lives alone in the mountain-ringed village of Sinchon in Wanju county, some 180 km south of Seoul. <br /><br />This diminutive woman, now known nationwide as “Grandma Cha Sa-soon”, failed her driver’s test hundreds of times but never gave up. Finally, she got her licence — on her 960th try, New York Times reported on Friday. <br /><br />For three years starting in April 2005, she took the test once a day five days a week. After that, her pace slowed, to about twice a week. But she never quit. <br /><br />Cheerful loser<br /><br />Hers is a fame based not only on sheer doggedness, a quality held in high esteem by Koreans, but also on the universal human sympathy for a monumental — and in her case, cheerful — loser. <br /><br />“When she finally got her licence, we all went out in cheers and hugged her, giving her flowers,” said Park Su-yeon, an instructor at Jeonbuk Driving School, which Cha once attended. <br /><br />“It felt like a huge burden falling off our back. We didn’t have the guts to tell her to quit because she kept showing up,” said Park.<br /><br />After she got her licence in May, Hyundai-Kia Automotive Group, South Korea’s leading carmaker, started an online campaign asking people to post messages of congratulations. Thousands poured in. In early August, Hyundai presented Cha with a $16,800 car. <br /><br />Cha said she had always envied people who could drive, but it was not until she was in her 60s that she got around to trying for a licence. “I was too busy raising my four children.”</p>
