No! Please Don't Take My Car!

"The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond." --Edward McDonagh

I watched a "Save Energy!" cartoon clip on Eutube earlier this week. (For IR. I'm afraid I don't usually watch the European Union's promotional material just for fun.) Of course it featured
all those things that magazines and elementary schools all promote today--change your lightbulbs, turn down the thermostat a few degrees, caulk any gaps in your windows, turn off the water when you brush your teeth, unplug appliances when not in use. Yadda yadda yadda. Oh, and there's one more that's always mentioned: either walk, bike, or take public transportation to work/school if at all possible. Carpool if you absolutely must.

It reminded me of a growing trend throughout the world today--not just the green trend, but the trend towards seeing the car as the enemy.

On one hand, I completely understand it. Individual cars are definitely a problem when it comes to carbon emissions, and carbon emissions are an enormous issue in the fight to stabilize the planet's temperature. Global warming frightens me; I don't want to hurt the earth, especially since I live on a skinny strip of beach that rising temperatures and sea levels could easily put in jeopardy.

But...excuse me for stereotyping liberals, but I can't bring myself to quite take the same view of the liberal greenikins (my word. isn't it great? and I do fully approve of many things the greenikins do. I'm even one myself in some ways) about cars. It may just be that I'm selfish. I was happy when gas came down because it means that driving is cheaper for me, if not any better for the environment. I love driving. (I mean, I can't for the life of me identify what most things in my car are, and I've no idea how to tell most cars apart, but cars are just part of life...I mean, seriously. My daddy owns an auto repair shop. They just are. And we've had enough different types in our driveway over the years, rom the bronco to the MR2, that, well, you don't just cut cars out of everyday existence.) And I can't help but think that an awful lot of people feel the same way I do--we want the environment to be healthy, but not to give up driving. After all, driving is part of the American dream, right? An endless expanse of roadways through the countryside from sea to shining sea, the freedom to jangle the keys and be gone in a moment, that magical 16th birthday, simply the feeling of riding down the highway with the radio up and the wind blowing through your hair. The mobility, the independence, the feeling that we're all united under the fickle whims of oil prices. Pickup trucks, 18-wheelers, jeeps, hybrids, minivans, luxury cars...all together on one ribbon of highway. Just think about all the driving music out there--it's basically a requirement of every country and most rock stars to sing about the joys of driving at some point in their career. C'mon: Life is a Highway. We Rode in Trucks. Roll On Eighteen Wheeler. Drive. All I Wanted Was a Car. Maybe everybody does it, but it still manages to feel like freedom manifested. You have distinct control over your car. Driving feels downright patriotic!

I don't want to take public transportation. Or carpool, really. And I certainly don't want to bike--it's cold outside!

Driving with friends can be fun, certainly. The teenage roadtrip has an eternal place in the American heart. My friend Myles and I drove what amounted to seven and a half hours to and from Virgina a few weeks ago, and had a fantastic time; some of my favorite dance memories involve the times all the advanced girls used to pile into Korie or Elissa or Olivia's car, turn the music up loud, and seatdance all the way to Mama Kwan's or Barefoot Bernie's. It's fun to ride and gossip in the backseat of Dr. Hall's car with Kate and Natalie. I love car rides with my mama, or being in my car singing every word of "We Didn't Start the Fire" or "Devil Went Down to Georgia" with my brothers. Some of the very best times David and I have had resulted from driving to and from school or Wal-Mart or simply driving for the sake of driving and having time to talk...down the bypass, up the beach road, down Moreshore, down Kitty Hawk Road, down the bypass, up the beach road, down to Duck, the back way back to the bypass through Southern Shores, down the beach road, down to Manteo and back...singing loudly or musing about how whenever he gets married, I get to be his best man (maid? whatever) and how one day we're both going to be famous and rich and save the world.

Don't laugh. We're young and dreaming is free even if gas isn't.

Yes, I realize that teenagers in Europe have lots of fun on the subway. I've ridden the Parisian subway system and the public taxiboats in Venice. Heck, I got lost in the tube station in London! And my friends and I had a marvelous time grabbing onto the poles and giggling at each other as we tried to keep from falling each time it jerked. And sitting on top of each other. And putting pop rocks in Connor's mouth when he was asleep on the train. (Hey, it wasn't my idea--I just participated. Insert conniving chuckle here.) But seriously, I think if it hadn't been a novel experience for us, it wouldn't have had the same funness factor that riding together in a car does back in America.

And also...there's nothing like driving by yourself. I should know. Driving by myself to dance nearly every day at first, and now driving the 231 miles home as often as possible, I've spent a great deal of time in my jeep (both my beautiful blue jeep now and my lovable old gray jeep now in David's custodianship). At the moment, my car is the only fully me spot in the universe. There are just so darn many people in the world, and they're always in the places I want to be. I mean, I've got my spaces. I've got home...specifically my bedroom. But that's over four hours away. I've got my house and room here. But I live with 21 other young adults. There's nowhere I can think of except my car where I can sing really, really loudly (and not very well) and not worry at all about it. And talk to myself--or to anybody else who needs a good talking-to or lengthy explanation of my side of things (it's not a requirement that they be able to hear me). Come to think of it, I've probably spent more time crying in my car in the past year than I have anywhere else. A car is just a very private place. It's your own little bubble, complete with the temperature the way you want, your music the volume you want, and the windows the way you want. Plus, driving's one of those things where you see results relatively quickly, and I enjoy that. It's just...individualistic, whereas public transportation is decidedly not.

I dread the day when I have to take a bus to get somewhere and leave my keys gathering dust.

That's the end of my driving-obsessed rant. I do apologize if anybody fervently against individual transportation takes offense to this. But I don't think I have anything to worry about.