Monday, April 03, 2006

On the highway of life, nothing is free

And that includes driving on so-called freeways. I suspect they were so-named because they weren't toll roads. But I'm telling you, I pay every time I get on those roads — I pay with a year of my life. The traffic, the speeds, the stress.

But I do it. I do it because I live in a highway-dependant suburb. I always said I loved big cities, major metropolitan areas. Topping my list were New York City — Manhattan — Washington DC, Paris and London. But what I realize now is that I imagined an urban existence, one where I could live in an apartment and rely on walking and using public transportation. No scenario in which I lived in one of these cities involved my owning or driving a car.

Well, I got half my wish, as we now live in the fourth-largest city in the U.S.A. But we live 25 miles from downtown, and we live in a houses-only subdivision. The grocery store is more than two miles from here; everything — and I do mean everything — is further. It's possible to avoid the Interstates, but then it takes longer, and you deal with in-town traffic.

I've never much liked driving. After that initial thrill when I turned 16, there is no fun in getting behind the wheel. I am quite happy to be chauffeured from place to place. And it's not so much that I'm scared (not really) or a bad driver (well, maybe). I think it's more of my princess attitude; let someone else do it for me.

My mother-in-law asked me if I drove much; the answer, naturally, is yes. I don't like it, but there are lots of things I don't like — cleaning house, going to the grocery store, paying bills. But I still do them. So I get out on the crazy-busy highways. There is a feeling of sheer terror, then it subsides. I refuse to be paralyzed by my fear. And I don't wish to rely on my husband everytime I need to do something. Makes life tough for everyone. I drove in Germany; I can drive here.

Today I had to — needlessly — drive down to the inner loop to get the car registered. Except that the Website misdirected me, and I could have taken care of everything right here in the neighborhood. (When I expressed this to the civil servant at the window, he just sighed and said that was a problem with the Website. Um, not a very satisfactory answer to someone who just spent the better part of two hours on this task — driving time, time in line, drive home.) Every mile on that road took a minute off my life.

But, I have to look for the silver lining — you know me, the eternal optimist. It got me out of the house, on an errand. And I got to listen to the Texas mix-CD my dad made me (can't listen in the house — it contains some naughty words that my daughters shouldn't hear, so it's relegated to the car).

And it's another step in my initiation to Houston.

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