I don’t like cars. I don’t really even like driving. But yesterday, in a fit of confidence (and having no other choice…) I drove from New York City to Connecticut, in a car twice the size of mine, with my boss. And nobody died! And the car didn’t get dented!
It was a miracle.
When we picked up the car, my boss suggested that I drive, and thinking it was a joke, I said “Sure, no problem” and laughed nervously for ten minutes. But much to my dismay, when the car pulled up, he climbed into the passenger seat! Suddenly life seemed very real. Not only had I never driven in the city before, I was already nervous about spending two hours each way making small talk. And now I was expected to operate a moving vehicle?
I got behind the wheel and immediately felt like passing out, but I steered what I will now lovingly refer to as “the tank” out onto 77th street, threaded past a garbage truck, slowed to a halt at the intersection, and made it through bumper to bumper traffic out into the open road.
Needless to say, I was pretty pumped. As was my boss, after I enlightened him with my various road rage/fender bender/car troubles/did I mention road rage? stories and he still made it to solid ground. I even drove the speed limit the whole time, (semi)parallel parked and didn’t change the radio station once! It was totally magical.
So now tonight, when I head home to my own dump of a car, I will remember fondly what it felt like to drive like a normal human being–in a car that isn’t falling apart and with a demeanor that, well, also isn’t falling apart. I’ll let you know how that goes….