I drove up to Maine and back last week. It was the first time I have driven in over a year. I do not miss it. I have already spent large chunks of time not owning a car or driving in the last decade, but living with a functional public transit in a city that has everything I need while not owning a car has changed me. I do not want to go back. I want to spend the rest of my life not driving if at all possible. I will drive when I must, but I will work as hard as I possibly can to stay out from behind the wheel of the automobile for the second half of my life.
I got my drivers license the day I turned 16. Well, the day after I turned 16, because I failed the written test the first time. I’ve owned a lot of cars. I used to wrench on my cars back when I owned Volkswagens and other older vehicles. I’ve pulled the motor from cars and put it back in on a regular basis. I have lived in cars. I have driven thousands of miles in cars. I have had intimate relationships with a Toyota Van, Volkswagen Van(s), and school buses while on Grateful Dead Tour. Up until I was about 35 years old, I thought there was no way I could possibly live without a car.
When I was “on tour” from 1989 through 1996 I drove a lot. I would do all night bombs from Seattle to Los Angeles, from San Francisco to Tuscon, and multiple east coast trips. I took pride in being able to drive where I needed to go for business and pleasure. I was a good driver, although I was quite an aggressive driver. I wouldn’t let anyone else drive my vehicles and I was not afraid of driving in any city. I had an obsessive relationship with my vehicles and was highly tuned into the engine, wheels, and the road. I drove the speed limit because I was mostly driving with drugs in my vehicle, often times large amounts of drugs, so I needed to be a highly disciplined driver. Except for one time in Illinois I was highly successful in this endeavor.
While sitting around the campfire in Maine this last week I was talking with my 19 year old nephew about the love his car and his relationship with the rural roads in Maine. I also talked with my brother-in-law about his time on the Maine roads delivering rural healthcare across the state. They all have a very strong relationship with their automobiles and the roads. I get it. I lived in for so many years. I can still describe certain west coast highways. Highway 101 from Oregon to San Francisco I can describe every single twist and turn. Interstate 5 from the Canadian Border to the Mexican Border I can describe in great detail. I have spent many, many, many hours on these roads driving for business and pleasure, and sleeping in rest areas and turnouts.
The old me comes back after about 30 minutes in the car. Especially driving out of NYC. I don’t like it though. I don’t want it. I am not nostalgic for it. I really hate having to have my brain tuned in to one thing for so long. I much more enjoy being able to space off thinking about whatever, and tuning into whatever squirrel comes along to distract me. The automobile feels like an ex-girlfriend or ex-wife now to me. Sure, I loved them in the moment, but there is no way in hell I’d go back to that. Once you get outside of car culture you realize just how toxic it is. It is unhealthy for me, for you, and for the world. I don’t doubt that the automobile has a use, but I think we’ve long pushed things way beyond any sensible use. The automobile is a racialized, political, and environmentally devastating concept that I do not want anything to do with for the rest of my life. I just want to live. I don’t want to give power to the oil people. I don’t want to keep paving over our world. And I want people out there walking and learning about the world around us.
