Don't Drive

It's been a while since I've driven regularly. As I said to a friend just a bit ago, the driving experiences I've had since I moved to LA could be counted definitely on two hands and maybe on one. Consequently, I went from being a game driver to a gunshy one. I won't say that I went from being a good one to a bad one, but it's unquestionably true that I have grown rather rusty. I don't seek out chances to do it, that's for sure.

Ultimately I aspire to driving again as needed, but a love for doing it is difficult for me to relate to, particularly among city dwellers. One can't really drive except out on the open highway, and only then if it is clear. Here, left to buses and trains, I get by. Every once in a long while though, I stumble into a situation where I'm somehow the best option when a car needs to be moved from one place to another. At such times, I'm definitely an unwilling hero with glory thrust upon him.

In a recent incident, one roommate needed the other's car out of the way. We have what are called tandem parking spaces, you understand- one blocks in the other, so arrangements must be made often to extract one from behind the other. Anyway, he asked me to move his car so that he could move the other. All I had to do was drive it forward and then out a little towards the exit. It was a distance of a few yards, and it was a lot for me to handle.

I really had to wind down from it. I was thinking how differently if not badly I must be wired. I say not badly because perhaps I'm wired better. Most people fear such a thing as public speaking or attempting comedy. I am downright desperate to do those things as much as I can. I love them and need them. I get a wave of good feelings from them that validates me. Other people would be scared to death, but think nothing of driving a car all over in a country where tens of thousands are killed on the road every year. Maybe I am the well-balanced one.