Freedom to Move

Ok.  So, since Chris and I moved to Los Angeles, I have barely driven our car.  Let me try to put that in perspective for you:  I am the daughter of a man who worked for Ford Motor Company for 48 years.  My father could rebuild an engine blindfolded at 15 years old.  Cars were so much a part of my upbringing that I begged my father to start teaching me to drive early, which he did.  I was taught to drive at 12 years old in a Vega hatchback in the parking lot of our local high school, and I got my license just as soon as I turned 16 years old.  My brother had no interest in the inner-workings of the cars we drove, so I was the one who was taught how to change the oil and fix a tire.  My father helped me to understand that cars can be a vehicle to a greater sense of freedom.

Therefore, my willingly giving up the driver's seat is an aberration, to say the very least.  Here is a lesson in how something like that starts - The drivers in Los Angeles are certifiably insane.  I'm not even kidding.  I came from Motown.  We take pride in our ability to drive very fast, but with total control.  These MF'ers out here drive like somebody handed the keys to the first car to their over-caffeinated 10 year old, and the keys to the 2nd car were handed to their 90 year old mother who just happens to have Alzheimer's.  In other words, half of the drivers are going 100 miles an hour, changing lanes like a coke addict with ADHD, and the other half are driving 15 miles under the speed limit and randomly breaking for no readily apparent reason.  The mix of the two can be absolutely terrifying.

I quickly gave up and decided to let Chris handle it.  What a total wimp I am, right?  The problem is, the more you avoid it, the scarier it becomes.  It got to the where I did not want to be behind the wheel at all.  It completely stripped me of my  freedom.

For the last two weekends I have purposely went out, all by myself, to correct this ridiculous (I know, I know, it is seriously ridiculous) issue, and it has worked.  I can, miraculously, still drive.  My heart isn't completely in my throat, and I am having a great time puttering around alone.  In fact, I went to General Wax, the candle supply store today (it is way overpriced compared to candlewic.com, by the by). 

It is amazing that something so small can be such a large contributor to your own self-worth, but yet here we are and I am feeling quite a bit different!  The freedom to move, to control my own destiny, the sacred knowledge of how to drive a car that was gifted to me by my father has been restored to me, just by getting out and DOING it.  What a valuable lesson this is for every other aspect of my life.  As Nike says, Just Do It! 

Fear.  Be.  Damned.

~Jenn