Tegan,
I just booked the road test to get my driver’s license, and I am trying to muster something other than anxiety about the whole enterprise. When we were kids, and Dad would let us sit on his lap and steer his Honda Accord around the parking lot at Fish Creek, it was a thrill. However, that excitement never bloomed into an ambition to control the car alone. Maybe it was my interest in drugs and alcohol that eventually diminished any passion for driving, at an age when our friends were getting licensed and taking their parents’ cars for sober spins. Or maybe it was because we’d moved to the inner city, closer to the destinations we frequented most. At that age, there was always someone to shepherd us wherever we were going, and even the city bus had a certain fun factor after a childhood of being chauffeured.
The learner’s permit that I had in my wallet from age 14 eventually expired, and I never renewed it. After two decades, my disinterest in driving has morphed into fear. I don’t want to be responsible for injuring anyone, inside or outside of a vehicle. I don’t think I lack the skill or ability to drive safely, but why take the risk? I used to feel so safe in the back of our parents’ cars, and until graduation, still loved to take lazy afternoon drives with them, listening to music. I can think of almost no other activity that delineated so clearly who was the child, and who was not. Perhaps this is the last thing I must do, to finally grow up.
Sara
