The day I drove my car home was slightly chilly. My hometown was starting to gear up for the tourist season and traffic was heavy, but not as heavy as it was about to be the next weekend.
My grandparents had pulled the car I was buying from my sister into the main parking lot and I cried as I got in and turned it on. I felt like I was four-years-old and about to try riding a bicycle. I thought I was about to kill someone on the highway. I didn’t know how to drive. What was I doing? Why was I in the driver’s seat? Where was my boyfriend? Where was my husband? Who was going to come get me if I had an accident?
My stomach was churning as if I was going to be sick – either kind of sick. I was in another world. I was out of my own life. I was in another place.
My grandparents, who have been there for me through this my entire life, watched me put it in gear and pull out onto the road. I told them out the window, “I can’t do this.” They saw me crying. “I can’t do this,” I repeated over and over. They watched me turn my blinker on and leave my street. Watched me disappear around the bend behind the next house down.
I pulled over as soon as I was out of sight and broke down. There was no way I was going to make it home. Do I have heat in my car? How do I turn it on? Do I have a spare tire? Who even am I now if I have a car? Where am I going to get gas? Am I going to know how to pump it? Am I going to be okay in the cold?
Am I going to be able to find parking at my apartment? Am I going to be able to find my apartment?
Can I turn around?
I should turn around.
For maybe forty-five agonizing seconds my brain simply could not comprehend what it was seeing me do. It was like I was about to jump off the earth into the sun. Not possible, very dangerous, do not recommend. 0/10. I should turn around and put this car right back where it was in the driveway and take the train home.
But I didn’t. I put it in drive, put my left blinker on, and pulled back out onto the street. For a moment it felt like when you’re in total freefall in a dream. Then the stomach ache disappeared. My mind quieted and took a seat. I knew these streets. I knew this town. I could make it home.
I parked an hour later at my apartment and immediately called my boyfriend, and then my sister, and then my dad, and not my grandparents for some reason to say I drove home for the first time. Everyone was so excited for me, and my sister most of all, but it all fell flat. I guess I thought there would be balloons or something for me when I got back, but I remembered I was twenty-five and driving. I was past the time when you get balloons.
The parking spot I got was pretty far down the street on the same side as my building, so I couldn’t see my car from my window.
A couple hours anxiety hit me and my mind asked me, can we go out and check the car? Make sure the lights are off and make sure it’s locked and in park and everything’s okay?
Everything’s fine, I tried to say, we parked down the street.
But are we sure we have a car at all? Are you sure you’re not just having an episode?
O.O
It was a chilly October night, but me and my nightgown went down the street to make sure I actually had driven a car home. It’s called good compromises with yourself. Once that part of my mind was satisfied that I was indeed the owner of a new car and had driven it home, it quieted down for the rest of the night.
The first few weeks of having my license were an actual problem. I was not okay. My mind was having a difficult time wrapping itself around what had happened. I have never experienced such a mindfuck in my life. It actually had me messed up. I did not play music in my car, left my phone in the back seat, kept the windows rolled up, and did not remove my hands from the wheel. Not one muscle. I wore the same flat shoes when I drove anywhere, turned my blinker on for every single turn, and did not change lanes on the highway unless I had to. I drove at the speed limit and barely looked at my rearview mirrors. Just dead ahead.
I memorized every lane change I would need for my commute and planned far ahead for them, moving over as soon as I could, even if it meant slowing down and adding time. I left half an hour earlier than I needed to and drove to the next town over to get on the highway because the merge was easier. I was so incredibly nice to myself about every move I needed to make and so forgiving of myself when I needed to go slow or take extra time. I didn’t drive anywhere without my phone on GPS, as loud as it could go.
And the mental strain of driving was something I had not planned on. Sitting still for an entire hour looking straight ahead and focusing really hard on everything around you. With the train, you’re sitting still, looking around, checking the time, listening to music, but in this car it was silent, focused, almost meditating.
It was several weeks before I felt like I was ready to drive to my boyfriend’s house. I hadn’t been that far up the highway yet or driven that long a drive, and it was a town I didn’t know. But I was just so excited to drive up to his place like a grown-up.
My man is a little low-key sometimes, so he didn’t greet me the way I might have if someone made me incredibly proud, but I know he must have been. He tells me now that he was. He just isn’t the kind of guy that jumps up and down shouting in joy for other people.
But I know he was proud of me.
No one in the world was as proud of me as I am. No one in my family or my past or my future can ever top how proud of me I was and still am.
The first time I pumped gas I was so nervous, I called my sister and had her walk me through it. The first time I drove in the rain I cried again, because I knew the rain made everything slippery.
The first time I drove on ice I was with my boyfriend and we were going to his parents’ house for Christmas brunch. I felt so happy to be invited for Christmas. The whole world was made of ice that morning. I almost slid out on the bridge off of his property. I was in tears and breathing hard, and he reminded me that I could do it.
The first time I drove to the grocery store and tried to use a parking space I was so nervous.
The first time I drove to work without my GPS on – the first time I drove to my boyfriend’s house without GPS on. Those were so scary. But I was so elated after.
The first time I drove someone else in my car, my boyfriend needed to go to the hospital. I’d stayed over the previous night on the couch. Sometimes he was hurting too much to have someone else in bed. He had been feeling strange for a while. It was eight in the morning and he woke me up, almost in tears. We need to go to the hospital. Can you drive me. I haven’t slept in days. I’m starting to feel like I’m going crazy. Can you drive me to the hospital.
No! my inner voice screamed.
“Absolutely. Get dressed.”
We’ve never driven anyone in our car before! You could be the reason he actually dies. Just call an ambulance.
“Which hospital.”
You can never drive someone else in your car! You’ve barely been driving for a month! You’re going to kill someone. You’re going to kill him.
“Okay, pull up directions on my phone.”
Call his mother. Someone can come get him and drive him. Someone who knows the area.
“Yeah. I can do it. Let’s go.”
Out to my car. We got in and my heart felt like it was touching my tongue. He pulled up directions and I started moving. It felt like the first time driving again. Careful now. Get to the hospital quickly, but drive so carefully. Precious cargo.
He asked if we could get some food on the way because he felt like he was going to be there a while and he needed food. I said sure and we stopped at Dunks. They got his order wrong and he was nauseous the whole way there. It’s okay. We’ll make it.
He told me which exit to take on the highway and soon we were pulling into a parking lot. I had only been in a few parking lots before but we found a spot and then we were in the waiting room.
We were there for hours. I had left most of my stuff at his apartment, and the weather app on my phone was calling for snow. It was going to be a pretty heavy coating. I had never driven in the snow before.
I drove home without any of my things that night and his mom brought them to the hospital the next morning and I met her and his father there. They said thank you for taking him to the hospital, he might never have gone himself. It turned out his potassium was too low. A couple more days and he might have had brain damage.
They said thank you at least five times. We talked a little bit about what it’s like to love him. They said they understand it’s a little hard. He’s a lot like his dad.
That day was the day it mattered that I had my license. I needed to take him to the hospital. It was important that I could. It was important. I did a good thing.
Sometimes I still don’t believe that I actually got my license. I don’t necessarily believe it was possible that I could have done that. I just have to believe it because I need to use it to go to work in the morning.
It’s been almost a year. My insurance cost has come down by hundreds of dollars and I haven’t been in any scrapes. I started to get more comfortable driving and eventually turned on the radio. I still do not use my phone in the car, but I’m more relaxed now. I’ll put a hand out the window and check my rearview. I pass on the highway. I go fast on the highway.
I love my little car that’s probably only got another year or two on it.
I still do not drive other people. Haven’t since that day. I still am the most proud person in the world. Of me.