Rose Madeline Mula Writes: To Drive or Not To Drive

Rose Madeline Mula Writes: To Drive or Not To Drive — That Is The Question

I’m lucky I don’t have children.

Actually, I should finish that thought. I’m lucky I don’t have children who want to take my car keys because they think I’m too old to drive. However, not having kids to restrict my independence doesn’t mean I’m off the hook, because Mother is threatening to confiscate my keys. Wait. I need to amplify that statement as well. I’m sure you’re thinking if there’s a question of my being too old to drive, how can my mother still be in the picture? That’s because I didn’t mean my mother; I meant Mother Nature, who is forecasting a miserable winter, complete with semi-weekly blizzards.

So why should I care? Fortunately, since my retirement, I no longer have to worry about driving to work daily as I used to, no matter what the weather. That’s right, back then it wasn’t just the mailman who was not to be deterred by winter’s fury. Even lowly secretaries were expected to (wo)man their typewrites regardless of the elements. So now that I am no longer required to risk my life for a pitifully puny paycheck, why worry about snow? Why not just ignore it and let it bury my car until the spring thaw? Great idea.

Wait a minute. That thought also needs amplification. Great idea, except I live in a condo complex which requires me to clean off my car after a storm and move it so the plows will have clear access to the parking lot. That wasn’t a problem the first few year I lived here. Again, more explanation needed. Actually, it was always a problem but not a major one. I could manage — until a few years ago after two hip replacements and two should-have-been-but-never-were-replaced knees acted up, sharply increasing my unfortunate tendency to fall. Add snow and ice to that mix, and it’s not pretty. I do, however, have incredibly wonderful neighbors who immediately stop shoveling out their own cars when then see me slipping and sliding while attempting to clear mine and rush over to do it for me.

So I really don’t have a problem, you say. Wrong! I have often been described as “fiercely independent”; and fiercely independent people are incapable of retreating indoors and boosting the thermostat, leaving their good Samaritan neighbors to shovel out their cars.

There is a solution: Give up my car and establish a relationship with Uber for the few times I need to go anywhere. I do very little driving these days anyway. Since the Covid pandemic, I haven’t been to a restaurant or store for ten months to date. Instacart and Amazon.com insure that groceries and anything else I could possibly want or need are delivered to my door, usually within 24 hours. Consequently, I drive only two and a half miles monthly to my hairdresser (essential!) and to occasional medical appointments. Fortunately, being virtually confined to home hasn’t bothered me. (Actually, it bothers me that it doesn’t bother me. That’s not normal, is it?)

But I’m not really worried. I haven’t become a recluse. I speak to my neighbors often — from behind my closed door; I am constantly in phone contact with friends; Alexa is always available for conversation and games; and frequent Zoom get-togethers insure that I actually get dressed and comb my hair once in a while. In between these social encounters, Prime and Netflix movies (and “Big Bang Theory” reruns) keep me entertained, and TV news channels and Facebook keep me informed about the outside world (which is not always a plus). Thank God for technology!

So do I really need a car anymore? My decision would be much easier if I were nervous about driving, but I actually enjoy it and still feel very confident behind the wheel. I truly believe I could drive across country — as long as there were enough potty rest stops along the way. But before I attempt a 3,000-mile journey for a shopping expedition to Rodeo Drive, I guess I should first try a test drive three miles away to my local Walmart and see how that goes.

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Rose Madeline Mula Writes: To Drive or Not To Drive — That Is The Question

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