On my 16th birthday, I failed my road test trying to parallel park. This convinced me that I was a terrible driver and that I would never get better.
I did receive my driver’s license less than a month later, but I still couldn’t shake the idea that I was a danger to myself and others whenever I pulled my 2008 Mercury Sable out of the driveway.
Being nervous behind the wheel is not only limiting on the freeway.
To so many other people, driving is the most mundane part of their day. To me, it was this huge piece of normal adult life that I was a failure in.
Not being able to drive long distances or through cities was infantilizing. I avoided plans that required me to drive more than half an hour.
For years, I believed I’d never be able to live in a city. The thought of driving through traffic was too much for me.
Learning to drive in the woodland of northern Michigan, I never even saw traffic. Four-lane highways and roundabouts were just scary stories to me. By the time I moved away and had to experience them for myself, it felt like I wasn’t allowed to be there.
This anxiety restricted my life almost every day. If there was a chance of snow, I would stay home. If I had a long drive ahead of me, I thought about it for a week straight.
All my fears, rational and irrational, made me feel like the punchline in a tired, misogynistic joke.
My time as a woman, and as a visitor in Ferris’ Museum of Sexist Objects, has made me well-acquainted with the stereotype that women are bad drivers. During one storytelling event last semester, my registered student organization advisor and a member of the Ferris Women’s Network articulated this feeling beautifully.
This woman shared her family’s fear of the road, and it was cemented during an unhealthy relationship. She realized that, in being a passenger, she gave so much of her power to the man who drove her.
I listened intently as she shared her story with us and ached from how much I could relate. Driving, in many ways, is freedom.
Over time, I slowly became more comfortable. If my dad was at the hospital or if my mom was at the airport, I found it in me to be helpful and pick them up.
It still wasn’t until last summer that my mentality fully shifted.
This shift in perspective came from a summer full of plans that I needed to drive myself to. My desire to have fun finally overpowered my fear of US Highway 19.
This opened my world up infinitely. If I could drive in Florida, I could do anything.
It is absurd to spend my time driving feeling like I’m not supposed to be on an entrance ramp or near other drivers. I’m in a car. Those are the only places I’m supposed to be.
I’ve been able to use this point of view in other areas of my life as well. There’s no need for me to feel inferior or out of place applying for big journalism jobs or graduate school. I am a journalism student with a full résumé. That’s exactly what I should be doing.
With less than two months until I cross the stage in my cap and gown and two 1,000-mile drives waiting for me and my Subaru, I feel free to place my future wherever I want it.