Jane Lavagetto: Know when it’s time to give up driving
About a month ago, I had an experience that drastically changed my life. I was on Spokane’s South Side, driving north on Perry Street. I came to a stop sign. I stopped, and then I noticed a car on my left speeding toward me. I’m not sure just what happened then.
I know I assumed the speeding car would stop. I know I started to drive forward. I know I heard a horn honking loudly behind me. And I know the driver of the speeding car continued to honk the horn for at least a block more.
Oddly, I wasn’t too upset. But I did say to myself I’ll have to drive more carefully from now on. That evening, though, I suddenly realized I might have killed someone or badly injured someone. And I might have been killed or injured myself. I could almost feel the moment of impact; I could imagine the horror of it.
I knew that very evening that I could no longer trust myself to drive safely.
Since I started driving at age 16, I’ve had only one accident. A judge ruled that the fault of the other driver. I’ve had a few tickets, but none in the last 30 years. Not a bad record, I think, for an 86-year-old woman. But the fact that I am that age tells me I should no longer drive. Not after my experience of a month ago.
I know now that not being able to drive is one of the most painful reminders of age there is. Few things imprison like that. Few things rob one of independence like that. What I hate most of all, though, is the way it has taken so much spontaneity out of my life. I can no longer do much impulsively.
For example, I suddenly decide to make a friend’s favorite pineapple-upside-down cake, because she’s coming to my house for lunch. When I am almost done with the process, I find I have no brown sugar. I can’t borrow it from neighbors because it is a weekday and they are all at work. I can’t get in my car and make a fast trip to the supermarket. And I certainly won’t ask a friend or family member to drop everything and take me. This kind of frustration has become a familiar – and most unwelcome – presence in my new life.
Friends and family members have been pleasant about taking me to my doctor or to the beauty shop to get my hair cut. But even the most patient and willing persons aren’t going to be eager to do it too often. (Nor would I be in similar circumstances.) Consequently, I am home more than I’ve ever been.
I’m probably luckier than many because I like being home. I’ve absolutely no desire to go just to be going. But even I now sometimes feel “trapped” and it is definitely not a feeling I like.
The day after the incident that changed my life, I called my insurance company and canceled my car insurance. Then I called one of my sons and told him to come get my car. I won’t pretend it wasn’t a hard thing for me to do. It was like saying goodbye to fun and – isn’t this strange – to my youth.
My car had become – without my realizing it – a companion. No wonder I still miss it.
It’s interesting to hear the words of praise I’ve been receiving. People of all ages seem to think it wise of me to quit driving before I was told to. Or before some accident forced me to quit.
Some of the older ones say, “I hope I can do that when my time comes.” They don’t have the slightest idea how difficult the experience will be. I didn’t, either.
But it’s 10 times easier for them to think it a wise choice than for me to live with the results of that choice. It’s small comfort to know I’ve been wise, because that wisdom resulted in losing the freedom I’ve had for most of my adult life.
I won’t let myself regret my decision, but I don’t see how I can ever be reconciled to this loss.
Tell me, could you?