My mom jokingly reminded me that, back when I was a teenager, I declared to her that I did not need to learn how to drive because I was going to have a personal chauffer once I made all my money. I had big dreams back then, but my current reality is a poor representation of the fantastical plans I had developed.
What I miss most is the alone-time I enjoyed after I dropped the kids off at school in the morning. I’d crank up my music and imagine I was a racecar driver speeding along the back roads on my way to class. I loved to experiment with the maximal borderline-safe speed with which I could take a ninety degree corner while mentally noting where the “decoy” police car would be parked that week so I wouldn’t have to alter my bad behavior.
My husband would occasionally comment about my average miles per gallon and how they could be so much higher if only I’d release my lead foot from the gas pedal. That’s the thing about newer vehicles: they rat you out with their digital memories that can be easily displayed and viewed with the push of a tiny button.
He’d also comment on the condition of our tires and wonder why we went through 4 sets in five years. In my defense, they were really lousy tires, but thanks to the warranty, we didn’t have to fork over too much money to replace them.
There’s freedom in driving. The roads, streets, highways, and Interstates are connected like the body’s blood vessels and they cry out for me to navigate their meandering paths.
When I was a kid traveling back and forth across Florida with my parents on Highways 98 or 60, I’d see little roads that trailed off into the woods and think, “One day, when I can drive, I’m going to come back here and go down that road.” Sure I was disappointed to later find out that nothing special was really on those roads, but I solved the mystery anyway.
I remember taking a trip with my mom, sister, and grandparents to North Florida for the Respress family reunion and taking a picture of a sign that declared we were entering Alabama. I had officially been out of the state and no one sent the authorities after me. Little did I know then that, one day, I would live on the other side of the country.
I still find it incredible that I can hypothetically pull out of my driveway in the morning and (provided I have the financial backing) go just about anywhere in this hemisphere of the world: the beach, Seattle, New York, the Grand Canyon, Niagra Falls, or just Frostproof to visit relatives.
For crying out loud, I even miss having road rage! It just isn’t the same when I’m the passenger because my heart isn’t in it.
Still, I’m not bitter about my predicament at all. In fact, when I get the green light to drive again, I think I’ll fully appreciate the entire spectrum of the driving experience. It really is true what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder.
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