The Midlife

It has been advised that my elder badass mom should no longer drive. The situation, while tough on her and her independence, had me thinking about my feelings about driving. I don’t like it. If I ever hit PowerBall, I would most likely hire a personal driver, preferably one that would also enjoy cooking me tasty and nutritious meals but with extra cheese.

I started driving at 17 and while I was able to get a license sooner, I was unlike other normal teenagers. I was in no rush. I used my car mostly to get to work and school and the occasional road trip to see my long-distance boyfriend before he dumped me.

Before I became more road-savvy, my teens and early 20s sparked the era of my fender benders. A few were my fault, because I couldn’t shoot the bird to stupid drivers without getting distracted. One time, I was hit by an empty — except for the careless driver — short school bus. The experiences taught me how to handle my biz behind the wheel.

I think cult movies like License to Drive (RIP Corey Haim) are to blame for getting people excited about driving. I get the whole rite of passage thing but driving yourself isn’t that spectacular. While driving satisfies the needs of getting to and from important places like work and the grocery store, my anxiety has quashed the thrill ride for me. Or maybe I’ve just been driving for too many years.

In Maryland, any time there is a semblance of precipitation, people lose their ability to use their turn signals or make well thought-out decisions. And somewhere along the way, people have lost their ability to put up their hand in the customary “thank you” among drivers when a fellow driver lets you pass in front of them. Is a simple hand-up inconceivable? (Not to be mistaken for a hand-out, which is sadly another prevalent reality at our local intersections.)

For nearly three years, I lived in New Jersey and commuted into New York City for work. Public transportation is another crazy experience. While very eco-friendly and carefree from a “no need to focus on the road” perspective, every morning and post-work commute took on a Hunger Games-like pursuit of vacant seats. If you were left to stand and clasp the greasy handrail on the bus or subway, your life potentially turned into Contagion (much like today in Covid times).

With today’s gas prices soaring to the moon, my desire to be behind the wheel lessens by the day. And I’m OK with it (not the gas prices). You’ll find me over here researching electric cars and longing for the day my personal driver (whether Uber or Neighbor Ride) is a good conversationalist and refrains from brandishing his/her middle finger.

Tell me, dear reader: When it comes to driving, are you a fan or foe? Send me the details here or at themidlife2021@gmail.com. Until next time, stay well!