I don’t drive. Okay let me clarify that statement. I can’t drive. Yes I am a middle aged man who can’t drive. No matter how many times the subject comes up, people still find it odd that I cannot operate a motor vehicle.
Initially I just never learned. My high school moved the driver education out of the school schedule. In order to take driver’s education you had to make your school day longer. I personally didn’t want to stay after school for anything. I wanted to leave. I also didn’t want to get to school super early for a morning session. A longer school day didn’t appeal to me. No thank you. So initially I just never got around to it.
My Pops tried to teach me a few times. He even tried to teach me into my mid 20s. My nerves got the best of me. I did my best Jr. Dukes of Hazzard brake slam to avoid creating a serious remodeling project in my parent’s dining room. I think maybe Pops knew that it just wasn’t going to happen for me. It is perfectly acceptable give up some hope when it comes to your children.
I did pass the written test. I got the books and studied. So I got halfway there. One of my best friends even came by my apartment determined to get me driving. She took me out and did her best. It was a grand gesture of love and friendship. I think I started a turn way too early. I was crossing over some lane and then I realized I couldn’t afford to replace her car if I botched this up. I just couldn’t do it. She tried. She believed in me. It is perfectly ok to give up some hope when it comes to your best friends.
Not being able to drive certainly added a twist to dating. My financial situation was always established upfront. “I don’t drive. I don’t have a car. “ That put it right out there in the open. Throw that out there the next time you are thinking about dating someone. It helps filter out some dead weight. I did have an important trade-off for my automobile challenged lifestyle. I was a musician. I always had a band or numerous “music projects” going on so I could get girls interested in that alone. I mean all I really needed was a guitar I could play and the right amount of swagger. They didn’t really care about the projects. I don’t know how it is now, but in those days a female would overlook a lot of things if you were a rock and roller.
Generally speaking it all worked out. I really only had a couple of ex-girlfriends that only pretended it wasn’t a problem. One of them eventually added it to her list of things to hurl at me during nightly sessions of emasculating mental cruelty. I often refer to her as my , “Significant Evil” for a reason.
Another advantage to being a full time pedestrian was I never had to haul the band gear. Trust me. You don’t want to be the only person in the band with a vehicle big enough to haul the gear. I got off on Easy Street. I never had to deal with torn seats, spilled beer, puke sticking to the side of my car during a late night highway barf session. Nope. Not me. When that vomit shot out the side of the car door, I was always able to enjoy the hilarity of someone who can’t handle their liquor. I walked away with nothing to clean up. My night was over. I’m not the designated driver. Drop me off here. Adios muchachos !
For many years I didn’t need to drive. My apartment was situated right between the grocery store, college and the radio station where I worked. I carried all my gear in an old milk crate Grandpa gave me when I was a kid. It was the perfect vessel to haul my stuff to work. I walked all over that town. There was something very liberating about walking everywhere. It wasn’t some mystical, “being one with nature” feeling. That’s not my vibe. I hate bugs. It was more about independence. Walking everywhere was simply a reinforcement of being on my own. I was out in the great wide open with all my senses being utilized. I had to watch the cars so I walk across the road without getting hit. I had to pay attention to anyone that looked suspicious in the middle of the night. I had to keep my eyes open for abandoned license plates to add to my collection. There was also this whole feeling of being alone. I have always had an uneasy relationship with being alone. Sometimes it is empowering, other times it is weird.
Mortality is another experience that plays a role in this whole thing. My first experience with it was in high school. Some students were killed in a car wreck. I didn’t know them personally, but that doesn’t lessen the impact of young people in the community dying. I had the misfortune of revisiting a similar situation after high school. One night I was out at a restaurant/club (I believe it was called Croc’s). I was checking out a band that I was promoting. I ran into an old high school friend who was working at the establishment. I was so happy to see her. She was someone I kind of had a bit of a crush on a back in high school. She was younger than me. She was always so happy and upbeat. She still had that same vibe. A few weeks after seeing my old friend I was thumbing through the newspaper. I can still see the black and white print scrolling in slow motion. I started reading a blurb about a car wreck. I couldn’t believe it when I read her name. My heart sank. A bright light extinguished. She was gone. This one really sent me over the edge with the whole bundle of nerves and mental block.
My wife is very understanding. This whole lack of driving thing was going to be part of our journey. There were no surprises. She is our family charter bus. She is responsible for round trip stops to schools, work, after school activities, etc. As the chief coordinator of the household, she has the maps, calendars, routes, overloaded refrigerator magnets and schedules that are required tools for the job. She’s the Queen of the Road.
As with many things, our modifications to the contemporary lifestyle has its own rewards. My wife sees me fresh from the battle every day when she picks me up from work. It would be very hard for me to deal with the daily grind if my wife was too isolated from that part of my life. She sees the ups and downs. She rides that emotional rollercoaster with me. All jobs have a pendulum weighted with highs and lows. We celebrate the good times immediately and share the down times immediately. Sometimes I want to talk about it. Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I just want to blare Concrete Blonde and get in my own little headspace. Having her next to me helps me regroup.
When my family putters around town we travel full tilt boogie in our mini-van. I have the opportunity to share all my old music with my kids. I don’t have to keep my hands on a steering wheel. I can answer all of their questions and fill their brains with useless music trivia. Total music trivia engagement. My youngest kids can sing, “The Final Countdown”. My oldest daughter borrows my Judas Priest CD. My other daughter is obsessed with the Ramones and Alice Cooper. Everyone loves Kiss, Nightwish, Elvis and Bach! All right ! Rockin’ Old Dad is doing something right!
There are goofy things I would never experience if I just drove to the store myself. We have the family equivalent of sports specialty formations when it comes to shopping. We pull into the parking lot. Then we decide what parent/child formation would be best for this store. So many options. Do we go zone defense, nickel package or all out six person blitz? Who gets the dairy and who is going to go check the aisle for that big can of Orange Tang that they haven’t carried in two years but we still keep checking to see if it will magically re-appear?
Driving is serious business. There is a lot going on. Everyone that operates a vehicle holds multiple lives in their hands. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I would be putting too many people at risk. I have too many other things I would rather conquer that don’t involve risking other people’s safety. I owe it to my family and other people’s families to stay out of the fray.
What works for us won’t work in every household. What works in someone else’s household wouldn’t work in mine. All of us have our own ways of getting things done. There are loads we share and other burdens we don’t. Sometimes a person has to do all of one thing because our loved one just can’t do it. It really doesn’t matter who is driving as long as we are supporting each other and moving in the same direction. If we do that, we’ll get where we’re going.
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