Driving and Youth, words synonymous with the fears of parents and general frustration and dislike from the rest of the motoring populace. But those feelings aside, I find the whole subject rather fascinating.
Today as I was walking around the place I am staying at now, I saw five skinny, lanky and goofy looking teenage boys cruising around after school, stuffed into the cab of a 70s Chevy single cab truck with a mismatched door and big tires. They were laughing and goofing around, just bumbling around in this old truck in a very small town with not much to do.
It was something I used to do, and loved doing, when I was in high school . Not that I am terribly old, but it was a decade ago, and for some reason, I miss it.
Which leads me to ask, what the hell happens to us? As we grow up, why is the joy of driving lost? Work, collage, families, marriage, etc etc etc I do know comes with this “Growing Up” phenomenon, but why lose the joy of driving? I know some people have it, those with hot rods or sports cars or motorcycles even, but I don’t know if it is the same feeling. Mostly it’s because of the cars, I think. If you have a vintage muscle car or motorbike, you maybe have a sense of accomplishment or the knowledge that you worked hard (I hope) for that luxury. It is hard to be excited about your driving experience on a daily basis when having to drive a boring minivan or drab domesticated sedan. Admittedly, there is something that isn’t exactly inspired by that.
Which then takes me back to young drivers…
So unless your parents are footing the bill for everything (which I personally hate with a passion), gas, insurance, upkeep, and are throwing down a hell of a lot of money on a really nice set of wheels, chances are your first vehicle isn’t going to be spectacular. Mine was a 1987 Dodge Ram 2wd with a six cylinder engine, crank windows and a tape deck. It wasn’t exactly a Ferrari. It was red, though…
Point is, that old truck was something you’d expect a grandpa in a nice cul da sac neighborhood to haul his lawn mower to the small engine mechanic, some planks for the deck, and a few bags of potting soil for his wife’s garden. It wasn’t fast or flashy, nor impressive in the slightest.
But, It was mine. And that truck represented that one crucial thing that teenagers love: Freedom.
Every single time I turned the key, I was the most badass guy in the world (least I thought so). I certainly drove it like it was a super car.
Luckly for me and the insurers and everyone else on the road, that truck could just about get out of its own way....and that was it. But no matter! The radio worked (sometimes), it was pretty (to me anyway) and it was my gateway to all the fun I could have! Joy with vinyl seats and plain steel wheels! And I would be willing to bet that every young driver felt that way when getting into their Pontiac Grand Am or Ford Taurus sedans or tired Jeep Cherokees. Doesn’t matter how bad it was (and I saw some pretty pathetic junkyard rejects) that car was the ticket to all sort of possibilities. Adventure! Independence! Freedom!
WTF happened, then? You would think that being a grown up and being able to afford something nicer then a pathetically underpowered Eagle Talon that smelled like old McDonalds fries would be a boon to your happiness. Make you feel even more awesome, or simply just enjoy the day a little more.
It saddens me to think, though, that we have lost this feeling in the years following high school. Now it’s all thoughts of work and collage and money and stress and no time, etc etc etc… Do these feelings die when that old car gets wrecked or breaks down for the last time? Why does that dream of being free because you have a set of wheels fade when that first car ends its days rusting in the scrap yard?
Sadness.
I hate being a grown up.
I want my fun back.
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