Driving

I read a post recently that got me thinking about driving, and so here I am blogging about it… Go figure.

Remember the excitement of getting your learners permit? Remember the thrill of getting behind the wheel for the very first time? The freedom, the amazing feeling of just being able to get away whenever you wanted? Now imagine that being torn out of your hands because of something you can’t control.

I live in a small city, with “decent” public transportation. It doesn’t run on Sundays and it only hits a stop once an hour. To get to another line you have to go downtown or learn the ins and outs of the system. It is not easy. When it first clicked with me that I could no longer drive — when I stopped having simple partials before my complex partials — I cried. Everything I’d worked so hard to get was now gone. I had lost the excitement, I had lost the thrill. I had lost my freedom.

That’s not to say I can’t get around. I’ve learned the bus system – ish… I’ve gotten a bike. I barter with my neighbors for rides when I need to do major grocery shopping. I get around. I just can’t do it when I want. My life now revolves around other people and the schedule they desire. I am dependent.

I think that’s one of the hardest parts of this thing… This disorder, disease, malfunction takes away my freedom. It takes away what I dreamed of having as a child.

My car still sits in front of my house, parked on the street waiting for its driver to come back to it. Waiting to be driven down country lanes and feel the rush of life passing it by (well, it would if it really have feelings). I refuse to sell it as I hope and pray that one day I’ll be able to use it again. I’m unwilling to give it up. It is my last bastion of independence, the last string I’m able to cut.

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