It took me decades to get my drivers license. At 16, I obtained my learners permit in Lawrence, MA, where I was living at the time, but never made it to the driving exam. My teacher’s car broke down and I was left without wheels. I never rescheduled to take the test.
At 22, I returned to NYC and was all about riding the silver limo (see: subway train). I became one of those New Yorkers who used their learners permit as a state ID to get into dance clubs, renewing it every year with the intent to get my drivers license only I really didn’t want to get my drivers license.
I chuck my resistance to driving up to two reasons: necessity and fear. In NYC, you really don’t need wheels. Sure, it’s always more comfortable to get from point A to point B in your own car, but it isn’t always the most convenient way to travel in NYC. From paying for parking (if you can find a spot) to traffic to crazy ass yellow cab drivers that will cut off their own mommas, driving in NYC is not for the faint of heart. Enter fear: I was scared shitless to drive. I was afraid for my life and that of others, plus, did I mention those heartless cab drivers?
Now I am 40 years old and I am a proud and happy driver. I can’t fathom my life without Shera (my car) and can’t imagine waiting for a damn bus or train. Not even in great weather. I am a proud driver and I love my ride. So you can imagine my shock and sadness when someone poured tomato sauce (or soup or juice) all over my car for no damn reason. Shera was parked, minding her own business while I was at work, and my defenseless vehicle was slammed with tomato! Wanna see the sauce? Press play to watch this week’s Love Bytes w/ Sujeiry.