Backseat Driver

If you ask most people to list the greatest inventions in recent history, chances are one of those listed will be the car.

Since the day Henry Ford invented the Model T, cars have had a major impact on our world, shaping the very way we live. Unfortunately for me, the mere thought of operating an automobile makes my skin crawl and my hair stand on end. Somehow, mobile death machines don’t seem like a great contribution to society to me.

The first opportunity I had to drive was soon after my 15th birthday. I studied the DMV book like a madwoman, soaking up every ounce of car wisdom I could. I finished the test ... and I had failed.

Crestfallen, I had to wait another week until I could try again. This time, I carefully contemplated each question and answer as if I were filling out the ACT. I finally passed the test and walked proudly to the grouchy cameraman, ready for my plastic validation. You would never be able to tell from my permit picture that I would soon learn to despise the very privilege I had worked so hard to receive.

I started slowly. I will say this; I can drive from the parking lot of my high school to the parking lot of the adjoining middle school like nobody else (as long as there are no other cars around).

From there, I attempted to drive on the real road. At first I was fine. I was even beginning to enjoy zooming around the tri-state area at 30 mph. Then, the cars began to line up behind me. The horns began to honk. The fists began to shake. Soon, they began to pass me. I could practically feel the eyes of angry experienced drivers as they sped off beside me. Trust me, there is nothing worse than being passed by a group of elderly women in a gold Studebaker.

It isn’t simply my speed that keeps me off the roads. Living in the mountain state, I have found that roads in West Virginia are not exactly flat. No, they dip up and down at 90-degree angles without warning, deer flying out at every turn. You’re lucky if you get half a mile without a rollercoaster incline.

Then there’s the twist factor. Weaving in and out of hills at breakneck speeds? I don’t think so. Not to mention, roads here are narrow. Very narrow. A car can barely fit between the middle line and the white side line without scraping a passing car. The drivers in Kansas do not realize how easy they have it.

There is one downside to my decision to spare my life by remaining a passenger: the school bus. When I was in middle school, I loved to ride the bus. Ours is always the second or third bus at school, arriving before 7:30 every morning. I had plenty of time for socializing. That was before all of my friends began to drive to school.

Now, I sit in my cafeteria, alone, waiting at least 20 minutes for someone to talk to. Then, there’s the afternoon ride. I get the chance to ride with 50 screaming sixth graders, sitting alone, until I can finally make my safe escape.

I have gotten used to the ridicule of other students and adults who do not understand my loathing of getting behind the wheel. In my eyes, I am doing everyone a public service. A road free from my driving is a safer road. So I will continue to be the butt of the joke of every family gathering, curious adult, or, most often, laughing peer. I can handle a life without driving: As long as I can continue to get rides off my friends after school.