Jan. 23, 2013 (ShapeShiftas) -- I'm still recovering from the week last month when my husband was unfortunately away and I had to do ALL the driving.
Living here in the middle of nowhere, Vermont, we spend an inordinate amount of time in the car, all day, every day, all over and back again. Quite the change from our Manhattan life, since there we walked everywhere and didn't even own cars until we moved here. (Well, we had a car in NY when we first moved there, we kept in in a garage on the other side of town, which we would take a taxi to when we used said car.) We really weren't prepared for this side of our idylic country life, and I am sorry for what must be our huge carbon footprint.
Our carbon footprint must be the size of Paul Bunyan's!
Still, I am grateful for the time with the girls, and Vermont is a beautiful state to drive around in. One of the roads that goes through our area, Route 100, is nicknamed the Skiers' Highway, and is one of the top-rated scenic drives in the United States. So any time I get over-stressed behind the wheel I can look out and appreciate the scenery, and try to remember where everyone has to be on what day and what time, and how to get Daughter 1 to fencing and Daughter 2 to dance class (thankfully today these are in the same place at almost the same time!)
After I-don't-know how many times back and forth on the Skier's Highway and over the gap road to Middlebury, you can't help it, you take the scenery for granted and just focus on the chore at hand. If only we could be taking a bus, I wish. It's nearly impossible to get anywhere in Vermont on public transportation, what little service there is doesn't match our schedules. Even the school bus is 22.5 minutes away. I am eagerly awaiting those Google cars I've heard about (here) that drive themselves. Not-so-eagerly awaiting the girls getting their licenses, even though it would make my life so much easier. The worry. The insurance. Maybe I don't really mind being Mommy Chauffeur...
We keep a couple of Guests in the car, for napping and back relief.
(I started this post two weeks ago but I've been driving so much I couldn't get it finished until now.)
Some people love to drive. My grandmother Mimi loved her big Oldsmobile and the vanity plate that was the same as her father's Model T: WA-47. Mimi and Gamp took my brother and I on many driving vacations, armed with picnic baskets of sandwiches and the AAA "Triptic,k, which told them the route to drive. We always took WA-47, never my grandfather's sporty Mustang, which he never drove above 35 MPH anyway, always in the left lane. Mimi did most of the driving, but Gamp didn't seem to mind. I don't think he really liked driving. My Dad, however, loves to drive, and has actually been to BMW Driving School. Whenever I've visited, be it California or Atlanta, we'd go touring in the car for 2-6 hours, depending on if he'd get lost, always in the sketchiest part of town. (I'm not sure which one of us kids was the first to get him a GPS.)
Given my druthers, I'd never drive again. I dislike cars, especially the maintenance, the tires, the gas. I'd consider living in New Jersey if only never to pump gas again. I've always felt ripped off by dealers and mechanics. I like the car I have now just fine, it's on 150,000 miles and going better than ever, but I always let my husband drive if we're in the car together. He also deals with the mechanics and fills it up for me, which I LOVE, thanks, honey! (Maybe that's "girlie" of me, but I just don't do cars.)
My next car will probably be the State Car of Vermont, a Subaru, unless I go for the indie choice, a Volvo. That is, if we still have gas to drive around with by then.
peace, Deborah