When I was learning to drive, I assumed that the horrible fear that I felt behind the wheel of a car would eventually dissipate, and I too could become one of the billions of people who mindlessly get in their cars each day, and get from point A to point B without much of a thought about the process at all.
In my imagination, other people get in their cars, and a feeling that the car is one with their body comes over them. It is a parasitic relationship in which we as the driver have become a mind controlling parasite that temporarily takes over the brain of the car until we no longer need it. When a person wants to turn left, the car goes left. When we want to go really fast, the car goes fast and when we want to stop, it stops. Simple. Lovely.
No such luck for me however. Yes, I can get a car to go from point A to point B at varying speed over varying distances, but in no way do I feel the comfortable, mindless sensation that I was hoping for. Even after all these years, my car and I feel like separate beings who have to work together, but we sure as Hell aren’t going to like it.
And unfortunately, instead of gradually getting more and more comfortable in the driver’s seat, I seem to becoming more and more afraid. I live in constant fear of changing lanes, getting lost, or somehow accidentally getting on the freeway, having to change lanes, and then getting lost.
Recently I actually did accidentally get onto the freeway (this can happen only to someone who is as spatially unaware as I am), and as soon as I realized what was happening to me, my armpits got all itchy and I felt my whole body begin to shake. I thought to myself, “What am I going to do? I can’t do this!” but the answer came and it was, you will keep driving of course. You can do this because you have to do this. The only alternative is to slam on the breaks and kill someone behind you, which doesn’t sound like a good alternative at all, now does it?
So I drove, got off at the correct stop, and kept driving until I reached my destination where I existed the car and went on with my day as if nothing horrible had happened at all. But it had, I tell you! It had!
Although I know that the rest of the modern world sees my fear of driving as an irrationally one, comparable to a fear of puppets or overly fluffy clouds, I’m afraid I have to respectfully disagree. In my opinion, it is the rest of the world that is crazy. A car truly is capable of killing several people at once, at any given time out of the blue. It is capable of maiming and causing catastrophic harm. Honestly, when I think about it I am surprised that I have let the rest of the world peer pressure me into driving at all. It is so much more likely to kill me than drugs, or smoking or even skydiving (All activities that I have never had any interest in ether, but my point is still just as valid).
Worse yet, my fear of killing myself is wildly eclipsed by the fear of killing someone else, especially when I am forced to have a passenger in my car (horror of horrors!). Cars are horrible death trap time bombs that we pretend are fancy mettle pets that we have ultimate control over. Never forget that Siegfried and Roy felt safe around there tigers too, and look where that got Roy.
I do however wonder what it is in me that will not allow me to be blissfully ignorant, just go with the flow (of traffic), and be just like all of the other people in the world who say to themselves, “yeah, I could kill someone with my car, but I probably won’t. I need me a Big Mac,” and off they go again, risking their lives and the lives or others for greasy fast food.
I wonder too, why two of my three sisters share my fear to varying degrees, when nothing but our obviously (some might say overly) fearful bloodline to connect us in our plight. It is true that each of us possesses an unusually horrible sense of direction which makes the fear of getting ridiculously lost on a trip to the grocery store never to be seen again a very real possibility for us. But I do wonder if our issues go deeper. Are we simply a family of weenies, afraid to make a move that might be out of step, or are we really just more highly advanced than the general population making it impossible for us to turn off our highly in-tune sense of very real danger long enough to join the unwashed masses on the roads of our respective cities?
All of that being said, I do recognize that my fear paralyzes me in many ways, keeping me from experiencing things that I want to experience (unless I can talk someone else into driving me). Also, I believe that it doesn’t say anything good about me that I would rather let someone that I know is worse driver than me drive for me rather than take the responsibility on myself. I don’t want to let anyone else control my destiny, let alone how early or late I have to leave a party. I do know that letting fear control you is never a good thing, no matter how justified, and it might be time that I figure out how to finally concur mine. Easier said than done of course, but if I know one thing it is this: everyone should be the driver in their own life.
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