Driving as Liberty, Pride, Danger, Excitement

Driving is liberty,
the wind blowing through my hair as I drive with the windows down,
blasting my audiobooks instead of my mom’s music. As a 16
year-old who just passed my license test last month, my emergence as
a new citizen of the road has given me autonomy, independence,
self-sufficiency, life.

Driving
is pride. My grandfather picked me up his 1985 Toyota Celica and
whisked me to my grandparents’ house for the day when I was six
years old, because I called and told him I missed him. He loved those
ugly, red, velvety seats and I did too. As the years went by, Gong
Gong resisted prodding to sell his Celica. “Not until I can buy a
Porsche”, he said. But, in 2014, Gong Gong’s brain tumor got
worse; the day my grandma took the keys away from him was a sad one.
Driving is dignity, and for many elderly citizens like my grandpa, a
license symbolizes so much more than just transportation. He told me
dejectedly that he gave the Celica away, but it’s okay— by that
the next year, he was cruising in a slick, shiny Porsche in heaven.
Legend has it he’s still going strong up there.

Driving
is danger. My nextdoor neighbors, a fun-loving, spontaneous family
went on a road trip to Canada. All four drove away in their camper,
and they never came back, though the newspaper headlines did. The
truck driver that hit them, causing their car to burst into flames,
had only a few scratches on his arms.

Driving
is excitement. Sometimes I look out the right window in traffic, and
smile when I spot the young woman bobbing her head to Taylor Swift. I
look to the left, and spy an anxious mom in a minivan, stressing out
because she might not make it to pick up her son up from swimming
practice on time. We may not realize it, but each driver out there
has a story. Maybe they’re a new driver, like me, and would
appreciate it if you didn’t honk at them for not turning right
immediately. Maybe they’re about-to-be a father, like my dad on the
day my oldest sister was born, and are really sorry for T-boning you
but need to rush to the hospital because my wife is in labor!

That little card in
your wallet and keys in your hand represent all these things and
more. When we’re out on the road, we’re not just responsible for
ourselves, but for others, and the rules are there for a reason. Like
me, enjoy driving— it’s a privilege. Like my grandpa, know when
to stop; lay down your freedoms to protect others when it’s time.
Like my neighbors, drive to explore the world to the fullest, but
acknowledge the risks too. Finally, have patience. Though you may
only see their side profile through a tinted window, everyone has a
story to tell, people to see, and places to go, and a life to live.