On the road
35 years old and for the first time in my adult life I own a car that I chose.
Well, that’s not fair. I chose the Civic too, right up to where we were sitting with the salesman and Carl said “standard” and I/Teresa said “automatic” - at which point he chose the transmission and the next 5.5 years would be spent with me feeling like The Car was not at all mine. Then instead of buying a second car we bought him a motorcycle.
But today I picked up my car and drove it all the way back home, across the city. I learned to drive in a Volvo and we get along well: the backbrain where I learned to accelerate, brake, etc. likes the Volvo pedals and turning radius and where the wipers are. It felt easy and comfortable. And I only tried to shift three times!
Driving back along Lakeshore, I went past Humber, where I did the workshop two summers ago, and the pavillion that has Emily’s name inscribed in stone as an “owner” of a kilometre of the Trans-Canada Trail, and Exhibition Place, and Ontario Place, and the spot I had my first fender-bender in the car of my youth, and I felt at ease with my city. I hope to use the car to do a few things: visit friends more often, go to activities with Noah, take classes, but mostly to explore. It was a good feeling. It wasn’t about gas guzzling or economy or practical shopping concerns.
The radio happened to be playing U2 and Queen and I felt like I’d passed a cultural milestone that I somehow missed, before. Sometimes you do get a do-over.
Today I was 21, experiencing a feeling of competence, an open road, and a sense of freedom. And it was good.
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