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An Unlikely Addiction
I don't know of any programs for me. People with my problem don't gather around, eat free donuts and drink free cups of coffee. They don't
cups of coffee. They don't exchange stories about how they started it and how they couldn't stop. Not all addictions have support groups. So you'll never see me in a stand up in a group meeting and say: "My name is Chris Moore, and I'm addicted to driving."
Before my freshman year at the University of Kansas, I got a new car; a silver 1999 Pontiac Grand AM SE.
Chris Moore Jayplay writer
My love for driving turned into an addiction when I visited my parents in Tulsa. At 11 p.m. when my favorite cartoons ended and I didn't feel like playing video games, I would feel like I had to get up and do something. I'd glance out the window of the front door and just see my car sitting there. I would turn to my mom and say, "Mom, I need to get gas." I'm sure my mother was puzzled as to why I needed gas at 11 p.m., but she
never stopped me. I'd race to my car, jump in and hit the streets. I even had a favorite route that I traveled. My mom sometimes questioned why I was gone
for an hour, but all I'd tell her was that the lines were long or that I stopped and visited a friend at work.
The problem finally caught up with me during my junior year. If I didn't want to do homework, I would drive to waste time. If I was tired of the inside of my apartment, I would drive to see something new. If I had problems on my mind, I drove and vented in the car. Driving was a release
for me. I did it to escape.I felt calm while I was behind the wheel.Yet, in the end I still had to come back to finish my homework, look at my apartment again and deal with the problems I was facing.
I started going out more and more. The routes I took started to satisfy me less. So, I decided to drive farther and stay out longer. I started to make up excuses to myself as to why I needed to
drive somewhere at night when I knew I should stay in.
I would make lame excuses to myself. I would sit in front of my computer trying to do homework when I would say to myself, "I need to get some pens. I better go to Wal-Mart." I always took the long way back.
Driving was my drug and the gas stations were the pushers. I was going to the gas station about two times a week. I usually filled up on mid-grade. But if I wanted the good stuff, I'd give my car premium. The pusher would keep raising prices, but I still went to it to get my routine fix.
Last spring, I realized my driving addiction was draining my bank account. I had to do something, but I wasn't ready to stop driving. I decided to become a transporter. I couldn't fight or transport "questionable cargo" like Frank in The Transporter, but I could drive my friends wherever they needed to go. Be it one in the afternoon or three in the morning, I did it. In return I got a few extra dollars here and there. I did this about five days a week. I only had two simple rules: Don't bad-mouth my driving and
This year, I don't drive as much as I used to. I have invented a new system for when I feel the need to drive around. I wrote down six locations on sheets of paper: Clinton Lake, a church on 15th St., Overland Park, Topeka, KCI Airport and Manhattan. I draw one of the pieces of paper out of a hat and drive to the location on the sheet. If I feel I want to go further, I don't. I just go back home and sleep it off. Think of it as my form of the patch.
don't bad-mouth my music. They were two rules that some of my passengers broke ritually. But even with the additional income it wasn't enough. So I decided finally to cut back on my driving. I had reached my limit.
My new hat system has been going OK. For three weeks, I haven't driven anywhere far unless it was necessary. But in the recesses of my mind, I can feel my urge to get back behind the wheel and blaze down the road for one more drive.
10. 27.05 Jayplay | 23
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