My friend Donna got her driver’s license six months before me. She also dated an older man who had promised he’d buy her a whole new wardrobe after our high school graduation. She seemed so mature to me, well beyond our sixteen years. So when I finally passed the parallel parking test, and was driving all around town like my friend Donna, I thought I too had officially grown up. It was great to be in control of something, the power of the engine, the freedom to go anywhere you pleased.  It was the first time I felt really grown up. I thought I had entered the adult world, where you could go anywhere and do anything once you could drive. 

     During rainy days at school I would offer rides to my friends that walked home. When you’re a teenager and the world revolves around you, being able to do something for someone else, even as simple as a ride home, made you look at the world differently. By playing chauffeur to another teen, I felt a little older and a little wiser. I even enjoyed running errands for my mom to the grocery store. It helped her out after a long day at work, and I enjoyed the experience of driving even if it was less than a mile away. Driving became a metaphor for many of life’s passages for me, and as I learned to be a better driver with years of practice, I also learned to become a better person.

     My first car was a used Hondamatic, metallic blue with 12,000 miles on it. It had been my grandfather’s car and was so small that he once drove it in the golf cart lane over a bridge, forgetting he wasn’t playing golf that day. He kept it in immaculate condition sans for the political bumper stickers that cluttered its rear end. He cleaned it up for me and I was so proud to be the owner of my own car and all the freedom it entailed. I was faithful about taking it to the car wash each and every week and even vacuuming the trunk each time.

     When I went on my first long distance trip, driving on toll roads two hours from my house, I was nervous about the interstate. I wasn’t good at maps and directions so I was uneasy about how the exits worked. When you get off, can you get back on? How do you know what road you’re on when you exit – will it be well marked? Once I mastered exiting the ramps and paying at the turnpike cashier, I felt a new sense of accomplishment. It took a couple of trips before I didn’t get nervous, but it was another notch on my belt.  

     I’ve learned a lot about life and its lessons from driving and being responsible for the upkeep of my car, and how even the best laid plans are subject to life’s Murphy’s Law. I learned how to budget for the expected when my fuel pump broke on the highway, ten miles from my dorm room. It cost me $1,200 and a week without my car. It depleted the monthly stipend I got from my family and I had to make arrangements for rides. I ate soup while I waited for a new month to bring me more money to live on. It was at that precise moment that I knew you always needed to put money away each month in a savings account, no matter how small your contributions. You never knew when you might need it. Even though I had always heard about planning for a rainy day, I never could equate that to my life, until then. Before college, you’re under the nurturing protection of your parents and they tend to care for your every need. They try to instill good planning but nothing can replace the actual experience of getting yourself out of a jam. It serves you well to have the opportunity to help yourself, to become self sufficient.

     Years later, when I would get caught in the daily afternoon commuter traffic during my first job after college graduation, I equated that too with maturity. It’s something you did as you grew up; you got a job and got stuck in traffic. Driving meant freedom. And before the invention of cell phones you weren’t easily accessible and within reach in minutes. There was freedom in knowing that you had your own timetable, and couldn’t be reached at a moments notice. You could get lost for hours and didn’t have to explain yourself. 

     My car has always been a safe haven when I’ve needed to clear my head. I always find solace on a long stretch of highway. If I’ve needed to make an important decision or feel I needed to make some adjustment to where my life was heading, finding peace on the open road always gives me the stillness I need to find the answers.

     I’ve also learned a lot about my kids taking them to and from school, and to their activities.  They’re trapped and since a full on conversation at the dinner table can be intimidating; it’s been easier to find the words, for me and for them. My oldest daughter’s friends used to engage me in conversation sometimes, but most of the time, I just liked listening to them talk about everything, and about nothing. It’s a nice window into the world of the modern day teenager, and to see how some things for them have really changed a lot. There are stresses in their lives that we never had to face the last couple decades.

     I’ve told my husband, who is in charge of our retirement funds, that we’ll both need our separate vehicles when we reach our golden years. It doesn’t have to be a fancy car with automatic everything for me. In fact, I prefer the already-paid-for transportation. I just need a reliable car that will get me from point A to point B. I love walking places, especially when I’m on vacation, but nothing can replace having immediate access to travel with having your own car. It’s always ready, no waiting. No worry about bad weather, too hot or too cold, rainy or snowy – the interior of your car is always the perfect temperature.