Okay, the squirrel story will be in the next entry, but before I tell that one, I'd just like to say that I am terrified of automobiles, particularly those of the moving variety. I don't like being in one when someone else is driving; I HATE being in one when I'm driving. Everytime I have to go somewhere in the car, I see my life flash before my eyes. And if Susanna is with me, then I see her life flash before my eyes. I'm not exactly sure why I live in mortal fear of car accidents, but this is the reason that we can go on a ten-hour trip and I will not sleep at all in the passenger seat. I am afraid that if I close my eyes, I will never open them again. Now I am not afraid of being dead. I'm quite sure I will be happier dead and in heaven than I've ever been here. But I am afraid of dying, particularly a death of the violent kind. I'd like to go quietly in my sleep, not loudly in some nasty car crash. I know, I know, you are now thinking I'm completely irrational. And maybe I am. But that does not change the fact that I do not like cars. And yet, I need to learn to drive one so that my poor husband no longer needs to chauffeur me around. This is my difficulty. Why, oh why did I not get my license when I was 16 and stupid and didn't have a husband and child?! Word to all those of you young people who live in big cities that have good public transportation systems, making cars virtually unnecessary: the day may come when you move out of the big city into a smaller city with no subway and no stores in walking distance, and you will need to be able to drive if you ever want to leave your block. So get your license when you are 16 or 17 and adventurous!
*Sorry if this title disturbs anyone. But this is how I think of cars.
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