Oh the Thinks you can Think

So, I don’t drive.

I can hear you gasping from here. It’s the response I usually get when people discover this fact about me. Followed by “You don’t drive?!” , possibly in case I had said I don’t jive. Which I don’t really either, but you know, not so gasp-worthy.

Since I’ve been not-driving for 38 years, I am used to facing this incredulity, although it has really only hotted up over the last fifteen years or so. People were less concerned when I was in nappies.  I understand that I am a licenseless anomaly in a world of cars, and that to some people this is incomprehensible. When people wonder how I get around, I usually reply honestly about using local facilities and public transport, saving car-necessary travel for weekends and evenings when my husband is home. I occasionally get a little annoyed by obvious scorn, but I’m a fairly affable lass, so I try not to bite back. Sometimes, just for kicks, I channel my inner-Blanche Dubois and breathily coo “I have always relied on the kindness of strangers” and bat my eyelids and try to draw attention to my bosom. This usually ceases the line of questioning, and indeed the conversation altogether most of the time.

Some curious folks want to know my reason for not driving. Truth be told, there isn’t really a reason. Not a single one anyway. The reason for not learning when I was 17 was different to the reason for not learning when I was 23 which is again different to why I still don’t drive now.  It is more complex than just lack of interest, although that has become a major factor, but there is no deep, dark underlying story behind it either. I just don’t.

One thing I have found is that not driving has its benefits. My life is slower than most. My children’s lives by extension are also slower. They have never had to spend afternoons ferrying between activities or appointments, because I try to keep as much as possible in our local area. In doing so, I have felt a real connection with our neighbourhood and our suburb. Our local school, local sports clubs and local small shopping centre have provided us with a community that we really feel a part of.

My children walk more than they would if I drove. They walk to sport and music lessons and school. Sometimes with me, often without. They have been able to learn independence. And road sense. And an awareness of nature. And again, a sense of community.They have never had to miss out on a social opportunity due to my lack of a drivers license. Their friends’ parents are always willing to offer a lift to parties and days out, and I return the favour by being available for last-minute before and after-school care when they need it.

People often dwell on the worst case scenarios of not driving. I have a plan of course. My husband is rarely more than a phone call away. I have good friends and neighbours who would help me out if an occasion should arise.  Taxis are available in emergencies. Ambulances in real emergencies.

I’m not a rabid anti-car warrior. Top Gear is one of my favourite shows. I salivate over the Mercedes SLK in the picture above. I love watching the Grand Prix. I admit that often things would be easier if I had a license. But things aren’t as hard as you might think when you can’t drive.

Why don’t you try it one week? Look at all the things you do in your car, and work out which could still be accomplished without it. Put the kids (even the little ones) on the school bus or make them walk to school. Budget for only one big supermarket trip in a week. Use only one car, if you usually use two. Not everything will be feasible, because obviously not everybody has set their life up the way I have. But we can all slow down a little sometimes, because in the words of the great philosopher Ferris Bueller:  “Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”