I absolutely love driving on PCH, windows down, music blasting. It is a completely blissful and reflective experience for me. And what I mean by driving down PCH is sitting in the passenger seat while on PCH.
It’s a running joke with my family and friends that I like to be “chauffeured around.” I hate driving; I don’t deny it, and I am grateful to my drivers. Think of Rihanna’s song “Shut Up and Drive,” which begins with the lyrics “I’ve been looking for a driver who is qualified,” as my personal mantra. I always seem to somehow find a way off campus without actually driving, whether that means attempting to hitchhike at the bus stop on PCH or calling my friends at Malibu Taxi.
You’re probably wondering how I have survived this long in a state where driving is as much of a necessity as water is to a goldfish. Allow me to explain the roots of my disdain and anxiety of getting behind the wheel.
It all started with a trip to the DMV office in Herald’s Square, New York, one of the most crowded and busy offices in the country. It was filled with taxi and limousine drivers applying for special licenses, truck drivers and other members of the driving community. Then there was me: an unamused 16-year-old girl wearing her school uniform.
My mother and father practically forced me to go take my permit test. Just my luck, I show up to take the written test with an expired passport. It had expired the day before and apparently that’s a big “no no” in the eyes of the DMV. Between my embarrassment of initially being sent away from the test and my broken soft sobs ruining my eyeliner, I tried and failed to convince them to allow me to take the test.
I received my driver’s permit sophomore year of high school. I didn’t take driver’s ed until junior year, and I didn’t get my actual license until two days before I left for my first year at Pepperdine. I think the driving test instructor took pity on me and passed me out of some sort of guilt. I know full well that I hit the curb while attempting to parallel park, and there was an unfortunate event in which I attempted to drive down a one-way street (in the wrong direction).
Most 16-year-olds are eager for their birthdays so they can immediately get their permits, then driver’s license soon after (according to New York law). Not me, I simply had no interest. The idea of actually merging into oncoming traffic frightened me. Growing up in the city, I was so accustomed to either hopping on a subway or bus or hailing a taxi to reach my desired destination.
As much as I enjoy being chauffeured around, it’s fun until you need to go somewhere and realize you can’t. I know that I need to get over this irrational fear of the open road, something which is confusing to many people. I’m not a bad driver, I just haven’t had much experience, especially out in California.
It’s green lights for me from now on. Anyone want to go for a ride? I’ll let you drive.
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Follow Veronica Felicity Johnson on Twitter: @Veronajohn36
