Role reversal, or learning to drive again

Me in my car in earlier days

Hooray! My much-loved 2004 VW Bug convertible is back in my driveway, sitting right outside my door. It was a real joy to pick it up this morning at the VW repair shop and drive it home, with Jordan riding shotgun.

That car is now almost a solid-gold car in terms of what it’s cost to restore it after it sat, undriven, for almost two years. When I was having so much difficulty with my hip, I despaired of ever driving again and entertained the notion of selling the car. One branch of my family said no, don’t sell it—give it to us. And so I did, figuring they would drive it. Didn’t happen.

So this spring my son had all the working parts repaired and took the car to an upholsterer who restored the side panels on the inside of both doors—they had come loose from their moorings and just hung in the air. Then he and his daughter drove it up here, top down. Only when they went to put the top up, it wouldn’t go. Took it to the VW dealership where the diagnosis was it needed a new motor. Nothing about repairing VWs is cheap, and this wasn’t, but I got it back today.

With one little problem. The back window has come loose from the convertible top. The dealership said they don’t repair that, but a glass company would fix it in my driveway. A little exploration today convinced me that was not so. When I finally located the company that does that, I was told it would need a whole new top. And believe me, that’s not cheap.

I have now invested enough money in the car that it would be foolish not to follow through and complete the job. Besides, I realize that I don’t have a lot of driving years left, so I might as well do it in a car I enjoy driving. And astronomical as the restoration costs have been, I could not have gotten another car for that sum. So bite my tongue and write the check.

But there’s another problem. Remember when you worried about your fifteen-year-olds learning to drive? We are now experiencing role reversal in my family. My children are worried about me driving, especially on a walker. Jordan did not let me drive home from the dealership alone today, and she critiqued my driving. What worries her most is my getting in and out of the cottage and the car alone, and I am practicing getting me and the walker down the steps, stashing the walker in the back of the car, and getting it out again.. I think as I master those skills, I will improve my balance, my strength, and my self-confidence. But she says she’s not ready to sign off on letting me go hither and yon by myself. I drive a bit above the speed limit, and she thought I drove too far on the right-hand side of the street.

Colin had similar small complaints but thought I did amazingly well for not having driven for two years. But now the deal is that I must drive with each of my children, and they all have to agree. Two down, two to go. Jamie says he’ll be here this week, and Megan is due to visit in three weeks or so. Until then, I must drive with a chaperone.

Tonight, since Jordan doesn’t want me driving, Mary Dulle drove me to dinner in my car, but I did all the getting in an out by myself. Mary’s vote was that I’m ready to drive.

I think this is called baby steps toward independence.