Grown-ups often have to go from point A to point B and walking, dancing, or swimming are not always viable options for transportation. Therefore, grown-ups drive. One would think that at age 20, I would have this skill pretty well mastered. One would think.
I am actually a pretty reliable driver. I have never had a ticket and the only time I have been in an "accident" was when I hit a parked car, which I don't think counts. To be a true "car accident," I think both vehicles should be moving, or at least occupied by passengers.
My real challenges come with the more unusual forms of transportation.
For instance, cargo vans. I am licensed to operate (that means drive, not perform surgery on, folks) almost any type of van for my university. This includes mini vans (a cinch), 12-passenger vans (nerve-wracking), and extended cargo vans (simultaneously shady and scary). Those cargo vans are just plain ridiculous. They are at least 20 feet long, the air conditioning makes funny noises, and they are impossible to park correctly. Backing up my little Taurus already gives me the heebie-jeebie's, reversing one of these babies results in a full-blown panic attack. I have been known on several occasions to just stop the van in the middle of the lot and look pitiful until a co-worker agrees to back it into the spot for me.
Additionally, I'm pretty sure the vans are just coming up with ways to aggravate me. It all began when I decided to remove the key from the ignition. Simple task right? Of course not. I jiggled the steering wheel. I wiggled the shifty-stick. I honked the horn. I rolled down the windows. I did absolutely everything I could think of to remove this key and the van just stared at me, quietly giggling. So, I did what any 20-year-old girl would do- I called my father, crying. After determining that I was not in fact in any danger whatsoever, he suggested the one trick in the book that never occurred to me- pushing the key in. Now, why in the world would a company make a car that requires you to push on the key before removing it?? I cannot come up with a single good reason, other than that Ford delights in torturing those of us that were born in the 90's in a world with cars that willingly relinquish their keys without a second thought.
Another challenge I face is, I suppose, a fairly "normal" mode of transportation- the bicycle.
(Stop scoffing. I can hear you.) I do know how to ride a bicycle. I learned in elementary school along with the other 99% of American children. However, my strongest memories of those lessons involves me crying hysterically and begging my father not to make me get on the bike. Some may say my fear of this two-wheeled weapon of mass destruction was unfounded. After all, I never got more than a couple scraped up knees and elbows during my bicycle tutelage. These "some" would be wrong. The bicycle was in fact, an instrument of torture and horror. Its pink paint and polka-dotted banana seat were just a cover for a dark and murderous soul. Attempting to remain balanced on nothing but two wheels and a hunk of scrap metal was next to impossible when I could barely balance on my own two feet. Just when I thought I had my bike mastered, something in my inner ear (this part is responsible for balance, children) would sneeze and the bike would begin to buck me off. I would cling on like a rodeo master but there was no way I could defeat this bike. After about 3 years of talking up "family bike rides" as if they weren't synonymous with "please ignore the blonde screaming in the back of our bicycle gang," my parents finally gave in and realized that there was no way I was going to be the next Lance Armstrong (or Louis Armstrong for that matter, but that's a story for another time). Since then, I have not approached a single bicycle that was not firmly planted on some sort of pedestal, in a gym, and missing a wheel.
So, to wrap up my fellow grown-ups-to-be- transportation is important. Lessons learned?
Cargo vans have a sick sense of humor.
Your bicycle will kill you. In your sleep. Probably tonight.
Dads can fix anything.
