Our Culture of Drive

There’s an old joke:
A Texan is talking with an Israeli and comparing the size of Texas to the size of Israel. He says, “when I get in my car, I can drive for hours and not get to the end of my ranch.” The Israeli says, “I had a car like that once too.”

Most of the people I know drive and take their driving for granted. Unless you live in a packed urban area where the cost of keeping a car outweighs the access it will provide, most people have a car, or two, or sometimes three. I think my friend Margie is the only person I know that doesn’t drive. New condos and apartments that are being built in my neighborhood have huge parking structures because nobody will rent unless two spaces come with each apartment. Our culture is fixated on driving. Having a driver’s license is a sign of growing up and a symbol of independence.

My father has been driving since he was 15. At 84, we recently made the decision for him to stop driving. It was a difficult decision and took a long time to reach. His reflexes were not as quick and frankly, it wasn’t that we didn’t trust him, we didn’t trust other younger drivers. The possibility that he and my mom might be seriously hurt while out on a joyride in Los Angeles, a city already known for overcrowded traffic, was a scary proposition. While he understands it intellectually, driving occurs as like ‘phantom limb’ syndrome. He keeps thinking he can just jump in the car to pick something up, until he remembers there’s no car.

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