Driving Forces

If you've never had a driving licence, you cannot imagine the terribleness of losing your privileges. If you're used to waiting for the bus or a cab or a friend or a family member to take you to buy the one thing you're missing as you prepare dinner...well, this will mean nothing to you.

I've been independent since I was chronologically seventeen (body is sixty-one, brain is still seventeen). If I need something, I go get it. Public transportation was a necessity for awhile, and my feet have ofttimes served me well--but dammit, I need to drive.

I itch for the heat of the steering wheel as it bakes in the hot sun. I want my four-sixty air conditioning (four windows down at sixty miles an hour). I want my radio turned to the oldies and really loud so I can sing along (my sons say I should sing solo--so low they can't hear me). Although the Chevy is aging, it gets me where I want to go.

For awhile I began to detest driving. It wasn't always that way.  I remember taking long rides, spouse at the wheel, just to look for deer or watch the stars glow in the dark countryside. The glow wore off as I drove farther and farther for my work, often over two hundred miles in a day. Yes, for awhile the glow was gone. Now that I'm back to ten miles a day or so, the excitement is back.

I need it.

I can at last get into the driver's side of the Chevy. Short hops--two or three miles, no long cross-county treks. It is freedom in a simple form. It is another step that shows me that I am recovering.

The first place I drove was to the bay. I hadn't been near the cool blue water for more than three weeks. It beckoned, and I answered. Ah, the bay is so beautiful when the sky is blue and the water is calm. Fishermen along the pier had stringers full of yellow perch. It is a good day for each of us.

I didn't realize how sick I had been until I became well. I didn't know how much I love living until I nearly didn't. 

Driving is one of the perks.