By Prashirwin Naidu
My heart feels heavy as I write this. Where does one even begin? It was an early, bright blue morning when I found myself hurrying to the launch of the Chery Tiggo 9, making swift moves in the black-on-black revised Audi A3. To my dismay, I arrived late, and all the vehicles had already been taken. I quickly met Verene Peterson, a Public Relations specialist at Chery, who was calm yet concerned, trying her best to help me despite my tardiness. Sometimes, I kid you not, God has a way of connecting people through divine intervention. Verene pointed me toward one last Tiggo 9. I hurriedly made my way to it.
I opened the back door to pop my bag inside, when a friendly voice greeted me:
“Hello, I’m Phillip. I guess we’re driving together today.” I smiled and thanked him for waiting. Moments later, I found myself in the passenger seat alongside Phillip Hull, or Dr Phil – as he was fondly called by many in the motoring industry.
Our conversation soon grew deep, touching on life, gratitude, and how quickly one can fade into the abyss. Phillip spoke with warmth and humour, sharing stories that reflected both wisdom and humility. Behind his ever-cheerful smile, he had experienced hardship and loss, yet he carried a rare sense of peace and purpose.
We enjoyed our drive in the Tiggo 9.
It left Phil impressed too. “It’s speedy,” he said, “and luxurious.” He spoke about his love for travel and his curiosity about the world, mentioning invitations to China that he had turned down due to time constraints.
But beyond cars and travel, Doc Phil lived for people. For him, life was about service, compassion, and protecting others — values that defined his remarkable career.
Phillip Hull, who passed away in September 2025, was one of South Africa’s unsung heroes of road safety. He spent decades on the frontlines of the country’s highways and dangerous mountain passes, particularly Van Reenen’s Pass, where he became known as the “guardian” of that treacherous stretch of the N3. Through his Community Medical Services (CMS) and work with the South African Road Safety Foundation, he responded to countless road accidents, offering emergency medical assistance and emotional support to victims and their families.
His dedication went far beyond duty. Phillip often worked voluntarily, using his own time and resources to save lives. During holiday seasons, when the roads filled with traffic and tragedy, Doc Phil could often be found patrolling, assisting, and comforting those in need. He believed that every person deserved to get home safely, and that no journey should end in heartbreak.
His journey to that calling was extraordinary. Before his life in road safety, he studied
medicine and even worked as a game ranger, surviving both a venomous snake bite and a near-fatal bout of cerebral malaria. Those experiences, he once said, deepened his respect for life and strengthened his resolve to help others.
Phillip’s presence extended into the motoring community, where he became a familiar face at events and vehicle launches. When I met him that morning, I didn’t realise I was sitting next to a man who had saved hundreds of lives and touched thousands more. He was gentle yet firm, humble yet wise — a man of grace and gratitude.
The last time I saw Phillip was two weeks after the Tiggo 9 launch, at the Festival of Motoring in August. I told him I was sorry for not keeping in touch; I’d been drowning in deadlines. With a gracious smile, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Not a problem. Take all the time you need.”
A week later, I messaged him — only to hear the devastating news that he had passed away.
The sadness hit hard. In the short time I knew Phillip, he managed to shift something within me. He reminded me of the importance of kindness, empathy, and gratitude — values that seem simple, yet change lives. Goodbye, Doctor Phil. You were more than a road-safety pioneer. You were a light on life’s winding road, guiding others safely home.
