On the Road Again Life won't wait for fear of driving
By Jessica Massey, Jayplay writer Illustration by Scott Drummond
The wind is whipping through my hair and I am taking the curve on highway 59 10 miles over the recommended speed limit, but it feels good — it feels like freedom. Two years ago, I couldn't imagine feeling this way. Driving was my biggest fear and my prison.
At the age when everyone else around me was eagerly learning how to maneuver their parents' 1989 Oldsmobile out of the
and run" and "went flying through the windshield." I didn't understand the pinched expression my mother wore, as she would roam the hospital hallways, I hadn't yet correlated my brother's broken bones or glass embedded wounds with the responsibility of driving a car.
until I was 17 years old. Even after I'd learned, I wouldn't keep driving. Instead, I had friends drive me home and pick me up where I went. I was constantly bumming rides.
in time, so I would start hitting the break a mile away from the stoplight. But after I got over my initial panic, I was surprised how much I loved driving. Sometimes I'd go to the grocery store at 11 p.m., just because I could. I was able to do things myself for the first time in my
I bummed rides until I was 20 and then it became impossible for me to rely on
I bummed rides until I was 20 and then it became impossible for me to rely on my friends.
driveway, I was dealing with the death of my 11 and a half-month nephew. He didn't survive the multiple rolls that left my sister's minivan on a creek bed looking like an upside down crushed soda can.
life.
It wasn't the first time one of my family members had been in a car accident. When I was eight, two of my brother's ended up in the hospital with more stitches and wounds than I care to remember. At the time, I couldn't comprehend the meaning of the words "hit
I didn't understand the repercussions two years' later, when an accident pitched my brother's truck down a hill and left his friend in a coma, which claimed his life.
These were the images I took with me when I should have been learning how to drive. Suddenly, I was keenly aware that every time I got into a car that I may not live another day, minute or second. My fear overwhelmed me and prevented me from learning how to drive
my friends. I moved into an apartment on the west side of Lawrence, worked in Topeka and went to classes. I knew it would be difficult for me to find someone with the exact schedule as me without becoming my personal chauffeur. I realized that I needed to face my fears and quit living in a protective bubble.
Re-learning to drive was a hard step. I felt like a novice who was unsure if the car was aligned properly in the driving lane or was afraid the car wouldn't stop
I still think about the fact that a car accident can claim a life far faster than I could finish writing this sentence. Along
highway 59, I pass small, white wooden crosses stuck in the grass on the side of the road. Someone died at each of these marks. A car accident consumed their lives — it makes me slow down and respect my little Jeep's power.
Instead of choosing to be afraid, I chose to remember and learn, and take my freedom.
— Jessaca Massey can be reached at editor@kansan.com
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