Life Is a Highway

The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond. ~Edward McDonagh

I did my first driving over the past three days. Today was my first trip to town as I took myself in for therapy, and I felt as proud of that short jaunt as any teenager leaving the house without supervision for the first time. Two days ago, I got out in the late evening and drove around Podunk to test my reflexes and ability. I even drove over to a small town near here to get a fast food burger and enjoy the feel of the vehicle on the road again.

None of that compared with being independent in truth again today, though. I got up on my own schedule (and was, of course, almost late without the goad of making sure I wasn't keeping someone else waiting), and when I was ready, walked out, cranked up my own vehicle, and drove to the hospital. I found a parking place rather than being endlessly dropped off like an invalid, and walked in. I had a set of car keys to keep up with in a meaningful way instead of just to open the door when somebody else dropped me off home. It was good.

I had almost forgotten how much I enjoyed cranking up my stereo and turning the Cruiser into a flying karaoke machine. One of the local radio stations had a "Flashback Lunch" full of great old songs, and on the way home, I sang and sang. It's good that nobody could hear me, probably, but it was great fun. Most music is better when it's loud (at least when you're happy, I guess).

While it may seem like a lot to be placing on just being able to drive, it's amazing what just having that one thing back gives to my quality of life as a whole. Now I don't have to be such a burden to everybody else. If I need something, I can go get it. If I have an appointment, I can keep it without having to disrupt my entire family's day. It's nice to feel like a grownup again instead of like that hellish pseudo-preteen state I've been stuck in since I had to stop driving. It's reinvigorating.