Driving

I began driving when I was fifteen. I don't know what my mom had in mind, but she began to teach me one full year before I was enrolled in formal driver's education. (My mom was big on making her own rules.) I don't know if it was that she didn't like driving and wanted a personal chauffeur or if she felt that I would need as much training as possible before I was out on my own, but she had me drive everywhere.

I drove Parley's Canyon long before I had the piece of plastic that said I could legally do it. I still remember the first red light that I ran by Fashion Place Mall. My mother reacted quite strongly, I might say. I plead my case saying that the sun had been in my eyes. I don't really know how that could have been since it was in the evening and we were heading South, but she bought it and made me stop immediately and purchase a pair of sunglasses. It was the first of many and I can never drive without them to this day.

I would like to tell you that her extra tutoring kept me from many a ticket, but it would be a blatant lie.

You see, I was cursed (blessed?) with quite the lead foot. No brag, just fact. And I love to drive. Often I feel gratitude that I was born during these times when I can feed the need for speed. I love that I can cross 15 miles in a short time, as opposed to the hours it would take to walk it, or even travel by horse. I love driving on the interstate. I love driving on the two lane highways throughout this country. I love driving in new towns and even some cities (although I'm not fond of L.A. and would never drive in New York.) I love driving through neighborhoods, old and new. I love being able to pass so many things so quickly.

I remember my mother loading us in the car when I was 8 or 9 years old and driving when she was stressed. She liked to go slowly and look at houses and dream. I remember riding with my arms out the window and loving how the wind would push my cupped hand.

Now I like to explore new streets and find little, out-of-the-way shops. I like to drive at night with the windows open and The Beatles or Motown playing on a cd. I love to drive canyon roads with Mozart surrounding me. I've have driven and cried and I have driven and laughed at amusing memories.

I loved driving as a teenager with friends and doing Chinese fire drills. I loved dragging State Street and giving out Debbie's phone number to guys who asked me for mine or wearing dime store engagement rings and pretending that we were "taken" already at 17.

I loved car pooling my kids places and hearing them share laughter with each other. I loved driving them with their friends to outings and watching the interaction between pals, giggling from the girls and guffaws from the boys. I loved taking my children one by one on errands and drawing them out to find out their dreams and their worries.

It never really mattered to me what kind of car I drove. And I always have hated the upkeep of owning an automobile. But I shall forever feel that driving was one of the gifts given to me. Hip hip hooray Henry Ford!