A Necessary Evil on WheelsJune 15, 2010 at 7:52 am | Posted in Friends Then and Now, Life and Living | 6 Comments
Driving drives me crazy. I know there are some people who love to drive, and every so often I don’t mind going for a ride, but overall, I hate driving. But it wasn’t always like that.
I turned 16 earlier than a lot of my friends, and I couldn’t wait to get my license. I even took driver’s ed so I could get my senior license sooner. In high school, having a car was a symbol of freedom. I grew up in a fairly wealthy town so most 16 year olds got cars when they got their license. For me, it was an important rite of passage my parents didn’t want to deny me.
My first car was a 2000 silver neon, pet named Bobbette (I always thought Bob was such a weird name, so it seemed appropriate to name my car accordingly). To this day, people still ask me about that car. With that car, I became “Dana with the silver neon.”
Whenever I went anywhere with my friends, I drove. Whether we were doing the familiar loop around town, going to the clubs, the beach, concerts, movies, or dinner, I drove. I had a few close friends that had cars as well, but let’s put it this way – one of them was awarded “Most Dangerous to Pedestrians” senior year, and the other one DESERVED it. If we went out in large groups, we would need more cars, anyway, so I was always first on the docket.
I had that car until I was 21. It was an end of an era when I finally said goodbye. It was around this time I stopped going clubbing, and I was a few years into college so my social lifestyle didn’t really call for a car for going out, though I was so used to having one, it was hell not having it freshman year.
But I LOVED my second car. It was my dad’s ’98 Subaru Impreza. My father had always told me “Every guy loves a girl who can drive stick.” I loved driving stick. That car could go through anything – from street parking in the snowy winters, to gliding over slick roads. The only time it sucked to drive stick was in traffic, but I’d take another day of traffic if it meant I still had that car, but the clutch gave way about 4 years later, and I had to say goodbye.
The car I drive today, my third car in 11 years, was a car I bought from my former boss, a ’97 Nissan Maxima. At this point, I just don’t even care what I drive, as long as it gets me to and from where I’m going.
Now that I take public transportation to work, I can enjoy driving on the weekends, but when it comes to going out, I rarely drive. It has a little to do with street cleaning rules, but a lot to do with people not wanting to get in a dog-hair covered car. Whatever it is, I am fine with it. I have done my part driving everyone around and I’m happy to take the back seat for a while!