Dale Earnhardt Sr. Is Rolling Over in His Grave Right Now

Next Month

I turn 23. And I still do not have a driver's license. But today I began the steps to change that, being my father's ride to Walmart. My father, who made a joke about how his life insurance was paid up in case I killed him. I wasn't sure whether or not he thought of the fact that I had been of legal driving age for nearly SEVEN YEARS and I was only just now taking a serious interest in it (aside from the multiple times I had to take the permit test...but after a certain point, that was just a matter of pride). At one point he said "well you wanted to do this" to which I replied "no, I need to do this. I don't want to learn this at all." 

Which is something that is apparently strange for my age. So many people are desperate to have cars. And while the independence could be nice, I just don't see how "amazeballs" it is.....I also don't see how "amazeballs" became a thing. But I've found I enjoy taking a walk to the store. Even if I was to get my own car (I would love to own a Prius) I would probably still opt for avoiding driving when possible. Less gas money, less danger, and less need for focus. 

I will give my father this much: he did take my driving anxiety into account somewhat. It's weird for me, as I'm not a naturally anxious person, to be so freaked out over something. And saying "you're fine" and "you're okay" over and over may not be the funnest activity you can do sitting shotgun (I prefer an All Time Low dance party myself) but it's a necessity. When literally everything makes you nervous, like "what if I drive off the road?" "oh god, I'm gonna hit that biker", and "why can't we just bring back horse-drawn carriages?" (Seriously though, how else am I supposed to run off to Gretna Green to elope if I don't have a carriage window to look out of?)

But we went to Walmart, and did a giant circle on country roads without dying. Although the jerkface known as my father figured out I was nervous about left turns and roundabouts. So naturally we had to do just that. With plenty of jerky forward motions, overly sharp turns, and drifting toward the curbs, I can say that I will never become the next feminist icon by kicking NASCAR ass. But one day I might be able to actually get myself places without having to ask for a ride.