Life in the Not So Fast Lane

As a born and raised southern Californian, it is generally assumed that wanting to be behind the wheel of a car is built into your DNA. I, coming from a long line of auto-mechanics and car enthusiasts, would seem even more pre-disposed to being ecstatic about driving.

However, one of my dear friends has nicknamed me her favorite little anomaly. And my fear of driving, once again, proves this title to be a well suited one.

It’s not that I don’t drive. In fact when I am in my small hometown, I drive quite a bit. Of course the place of my birth is a somewhat rural, and not heavily populated, which makes driving significantly less anxiety provoking. I also drove a lot when I was lived in Colorado, on highly congested freeways no less. I did it, because I had to, and I did it well. I am not a bad driver, just a nervous one, and that is possibly even more dangerous. The fear of driving could probably be traced back to the fateful day I totaled my mother’s car when I was seventeen. Though I was scared to drive even before that, so it could also be argued that I would not have got in the accident at all had I not been so nervous behind the wheel in the first place. I don’t know it could be on of those a chicken first vs. Egg first situation that we will never be able to solve.

After I moved home from Colorado I reverted back to my old ways of avoiding the freeways, because well, I could. There was no a huge needs to get on the freeway if I did not want to. But the thing about it is, I allowed myself to reinforce my fear. Reinforcing ones fear only makes it swell and grow until it becomes a super big monster to deal with.

And that is exactly what happened. Now I am living car-less in a big city. And though it is not impossible to get around, it does pose some challenges. Especially when compounded with my anxiety regarding using mass transit.

But I detest living in fear. I also detest always leaning on others for rides. Dependency can play head trips on a person and makes one feel less-than. There has been many times where I opted out of things because I did not want to find a ride and inconvenience someone. Of course what I was opting out of was usually something for another friend that I felt horrible I was missing. My friends are important to me, and I do want to show my support when I can, but I also don’t want to rely so much on them… so that is the double edge sword I have been living with for years.

I recently saw a news story about a group of women who lived in a country where it was illegal for them to drive. There was a day that they decided to drive as a sign of protest. This struck me. One because they were being denied a privilege and freedom that I seem so unwilling to partake in, but also because well, I was living under a fake law in my head that was keeping me from moving forward.

So this summer I decided to make a move, albeit a small one, in the direction to of my independence. For the first time since I was in high school, I drove on the stretch of freeway that links my hometown and the next city over. I did fine, though I was a bit frazzled by the end of it. I was only on the freeway for thirty minutes, a mere baby step. But baby steps can be momentous things, especially when they are the first steps. It was just one more push out of the very narrow parameters of my personal comfort zone. My hope is the more I push myself the easier it will become over time, and that is definitely worth the discomfort right now.