I love driving. As long as I have a license, this should be clear to anyone who knows me. I’m always the first person to volunteer in the pilot’s seat when someone comes up with an idea for a road trip and the last one says it’s time to pick a motel and pack up overnight (or early morning, in some cases). Are from small truck up to the 26-foot chassis cabin and everything in between, no matter the vehicle or the mission, if you need to get the drive done, just give me a call; I’m your guy – or at least I used to be.
I’ve been doing this job (more or less) for a decade now. Like any career turned into a hobby, it is often difficult to draw the line between volunteering and vocation. In the decade from getting my driver’s license to switching to auto journalism, it’s been easy to divide my driving. I am driving to get somewhere (eg class) or driving for fun (eg skipping class). Today, things are much more murky. I don’t go to work, so if I drive, it’s almost voluntary. But driving the press isn’t always fun, nor is it always possible to find a way to make it so. This is as close as you’ll find me whining about getting to drive free cars, so take your screenshots when you can.
But as convenient as it may be to simply consider it a job as a job, my situation is inconveniently common. People everywhere are having less fun behind the wheel. The trips are getting longer and longer. The suburbs are swallowing up all the roads behind. People are dying behind (and in front of) the wheel in worrying numbers. Why? No one has painted a full picture yet, but it’s clear that COVID doesn’t just bring out the worst In us, but also the worst belong to we. But despite the fact that we tell ourselves that for the most part we have made it through the pandemic, change it brings in driving habits Looks like it’s here to stay.
If you had told us from the start that the pandemic’s impact on travel patterns would extend beyond the initial threat of COVID itself, many of us would have expected it. Early on, the streets were empty enough to fools can do anything in places where traffic normally forbids it. Switch to working from home took 15 million car passengers on the road. But tell me this: Does your commute really feel less stressful?
As expansion moves into our ever-shrinking open spaces, even driving strictly for fun is a chore. 25 happy minutes on the open road getting lost in the story going nowhere and back. When I returned east to visit friends who never left our old estate, the increased congestion stunned me. The main traction I learned in high school still has the same 40 mph speed limit, but while we used to have to be cautious to keep it just over 10 hours, now you’re in luck if you have one. spacious enough space to carry out 35.
But stifled the relentless spread alone cannot explain why we all seem to be reaching boiling point at the same time. My limited psychological upbringing (which probably should have skipped less of those classes) didn’t include delving into the nuances of shared social trauma. Have we just endured nearly two years of partial isolation only to emerge and realize that we never liked all these other people in the first place? Probably.
There’s not much I can do to address the cause of our common dissatisfaction, but I do have a proven method to ease the symptoms: Drive less. You will enjoy it more.
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