Getting Behind the Wheel
Learning to drive as an adult.
Simone Higashi sits behind the wheel of a car. // Photo by Zach Dalton
Written by Simone Higashi
It feels wrong to be in the driver’s seat. Like if you saw a dog shopping for groceries, or a kindergartener taking notes in a college lecture.
Something deep inside me knows I don’t belong there; I half expect people to crane their necks to get a good look at me as I drive by. As if the other people on the road know I am not supposed to be there. And it’s true, I’m not.
I didn’t just decide I would never get a driver’s license when I was 16. It wasn’t some environmental rebellion to never drive a car. I was legitimately scared of the road. I still am.
I will be 22 years old in November. I am an adult in almost every way: I pay rent and bills, have a job, I am in a committed relationship and I am about to graduate from college. However, I still feel lost in my adult identity. Like a child pretending to be a grown-up.
In my most vivid nightmares I imagine myself in the driver’s seat, with no way to stop the car. I zoom through familiar childhood neighborhoods just barely missing other drivers. My foot can’t find the break, or maybe there isn’t one. The car moves faster and faster until I wake up with a startling jump.
Most 15-year-olds lack the fear that has stopped me from getting behind the wheel. It’s the confidence that allows kids to sneak out at night to go to a party (something I never did), or swipe a two-dollar mascara from the local Walgreens (also something I couldn’t even fathom doing today). Driving a car is one of the ways teenage freedom is expressed. It represents a newfound agency as you approach adulthood.
I only recently developed the confidence to take this step and it’s still not fully formed.
Driving has always reminded me of a team sport with extremely high stakes. Everyone is depending on you to do your part. You are supposed to trust your teammates — while at the same time be wary of them. Winning the game is making it to your destination safely, and losing, well, is not.
I am not crazy for being hesitant to engage in such a dangerous activity. It is estimated that one person was killed every 14 minutes due to motor vehicle accidents in the US in 2018. There was one injury every minute. Driving has again and again been proven to be one of the most dangerous activities people do on a daily basis.
Growing up in South Seattle, it wasn’t a huge deal that I didn’t drive. The King County Metro system and light rail got me to school and anywhere else I needed to go. The school district even provided us with free bus passes. I still live this pedestrian lifestyle, but it has become a burden lately.
Simone Higashi waits at a bus stop at Western Washington University. // Photo by Zach Dalton
Since moving to Bellingham, Washington for college, I’ve had to make do with a smaller public transportation system. The buses here stop running inconveniently early in the evening, often leaving me at the whim of my friends with cars.
I am suddenly lost in the lifestyle I had become so comfortable in. I feel like a little kid when I have to ask my friends to pick me up from work or my roommate for a ride to school.
My boyfriend started giving me driving lessons last year. I’ve been improving but without a permit, I can’t do much outside of the Civic Center parking lot or old folks’ neighborhoods.
Getting a driver’s license in Washington as an adult is easy … in theory. All you have to do is pass the knowledge test and the driving test. You don’t need a minimum amount of practice hours or even a permit.
However, a permit is required if you wish to practice driving before taking the test; and who would take the driving test without practicing before? Imagine trying to back around a curb without having ever been behind the wheel.
In order to get your permit as an adult who has never taken driver’s ed, you must first pass the knowledge test. Then, you can legally be allowed to practice on the road with a driver who has at least five years of experience.
“It’s okay,” my boyfriend, Luke, said to me from the passenger seat of his car. “Let’s try it again.” While doing loops around an empty parking lot I had almost crashed us into a nearby dumpster.
“I think I need a break,” I replied. I could feel tears swelling up in my eyes. The courage was draining out of my body, as if someone had just pulled out the plug holding it all back. I knew I couldn’t do it. How could anyone ever trust me behind the wheel?
I feel ashamed when I tell people I don’t have a driver’s license. It feels like admitting I never learned how to read or tie my shoes.
Driving for a lot of people is just another part of life, a natural progression I seem to have skipped. So instead of saying anything, I dance around it. I say things like “I don’t have a car” or “I took the bus here” to tell people I can’t drive them home. I feel like a liar.
I have made it my goal to get my license before I graduate college. This may seem like an easy achievement for most people, but it will be a huge step for me.
Even after hours of practice on backroads and through parking lots, I am still terrified.
I’m too aware of my hands. How my skin sticks to the leather wheel, my palms clammy and stiff. My foot is pressed hard against the brake, as if letting go would send the car propelling forward at lightning speed. I breathe in all my doubts and fears and release them in a final sigh as I let go of the parking brake.