Back in the Driver’s Seat
What I Learned From My Two Year Hiatus from Driving
I’d been without a car for almost two years, and yesterday I bought a car.
Over the last several months, I’ve felt trapped, a hostage to bus schedules, unable to do things in the evenings in the city. So I finally broke down and figured out the process of insuring and getting a car registered here in France.
On my drive home from the dealership, I had a sense of freedom as the familiar landscape of vineyards and rolling mountains took on a different feel from behind the wheel of my new car. I felt like I had wings. But this morning, I awoke with mixed emotions.
On the one hand, I am excited for the freedom I’ll have to come and go as I please, and the ability to purchase more than just one bag of groceries from the local supermarket at a time. But on the other hand, I feel the weight of responsibility that car ownership brings with it. With freedom comes responsibility. Opposite sides of the same coin, and you can’t have one without the other.
For the 22 months, I didn’t have the financial responsibility of owning a car. Even though my new automobile itself is paid for, there is still the insurance, gas, and upkeep. As I continue to build my entrepreneurial business, incurring expenses is something I monitor closely and which can give me pause.
So there is the financial consideration, but another cost is the stress of being a driver again. This subtle undercurrent of anxiety was something I wasn’t aware of having during the last 30 some-odd years of consecutive driving. Still, this nearly two-year break brings this responsibility into clear focus.
As I was chauffeured by bus drivers and friends, on occasion, I did not have to pay attention to the road or what other drivers were doing. I just got in and rode. France is a country with a million and one round-a-bouts, and these can be dangerous. On my drive home yesterday, I passed two accidents at these circles. Yikes!
The weight of my responsibility was sobering. This was not how I expected to feel today, not after having jumped through all the hopes and reclaimed the freedom to get up and go at any time. I expected to feel accomplished and begin planning my first road trip. But sudden responsibility overshadowed my triumph.
I suppose another reason for this intimidating sensation is that buying a car more firmly plants me here in France. My first year living here was like a test drive. I was excited about my adventure, and as that first year came to a close and friends asked me if I’d be staying forever, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I liked it in France, but I was just getting settled. So when people asked me that, my initial thought was not a “HELL, YEAH!” but, “I’m not done here yet.” I hadn’t accomplished what I’d set out to — write and publish my second book and become fluent in French.
My frustration with the administrative burden of being a foreigner (and trying to wade through it in a language that is not my mother tongue) was more than I’d imagined. It was a bit of a deterrent, but my desire to be in France outweighed the lack of simplicity in official matters. I’d been warned about French red tape before I made my move. Now, having lived here, even the French tell me they find it challenging to work through administrative processes, and they know the language.
But, even with this challenge, I knew that I’d return for at least one more year. Beyond that, however, I wasn’t sure. So after renewing my visa in DC, I returned to France.
Six months since my return, my intention has shifted. Purchasing a car only six months before my current visa expires signals to me that something has changed. It highlights my unspoken (until now) intention to live here long term. And now, I notice when people ask me if I’ll stay forever, I respond with a greater sense of certainty.
I’ve never been a nomad and want to lay down some roots somewhere. I love the language and the region in which I live. So I do want to stay here. Life keeps teaching me that it has its own plan for me, one of which I’m not always apprised early on, but despite this understanding of how life works, I can say that I want to live here for a while. I intend to stay in France for the foreseeable future.
Buying a car in France is a big responsibility and a commitment to my intention. I’m up for the work to navigate a system that isn’t always clear-cut. And I’m up for the responsibility of being a car owner and driver. I am confident that what lies ahead of me will be good, even if at times, I experience fear.
Apprehension might delay my progress or commitment to taking the next step (as it did before I decided to buy my car), but it will not keep me from winning at life. I look at how far I’ve come, and I remind myself that I am doing it!
