BAM! is not the sound I have come to fear while driving. When you have been in a lot of low-speed car accidents like I have, the dread usually starts with a sickening crunch, sometimes followed by the sound of shattering glass. This crunch-and-shatter combo is what I heard this past August, when I totaled my Honda CRV of many years making an unprotected left at a busy intersection, rearranging the contents of my hood in the process. Although I don’t like change, the aftermath of this accident was relatively painless. While my girlfriend drove me to and from work and social events, my parents (who co-own all of my cars, for reasons I won’t detail here) jumped right into the car search process and found me a newer, nicer Honda Civic in a matter of a couple of weeks. It cost all of my disability backpay plus the insurance money from the old car, but it had a backup camera, hands-free wireless, and better fuel efficiency. I was able to write it off emotionally in very little time. Such a shame I was only able to enjoy it for two months.
This October, I learned that a comic book-esque “BAM!” is the sound a car makes when the airbags deploy as a result of one’s nose sticking out into 55 mph traffic just a little too far past a red light. I also learned that the friction of the airbag–or possibly the heat–can leave minor, blistering burns on one’s hand. Fortunately (as virtually all friends and family were quick to point out), this was the only injury anyone in the car sustained. However, the circumstances surrounding my second totaled car have been a little less lucky than my first, resulting not only in a sudden and dramatic shift in my immediate priorities but also in some introspection about how vehicle ownership has risen up my overall list of priorities within the past 15 years.
Allow me to provide some context both past and present to me being careless. As I mentioned, I have been in numerous (perhaps nine) low-speed incidents, as many with inanimate objects as other drivers, usually my fault and usually costing relatively little. Three of these accidents occurred within a year’s span when I was 23 years old, and the insurance company threatened to drop my parents if they themselves did not drop me from their coverage. Shockingly, I saw this as somewhat of relief–I had neither enjoyed driving nor been a particularly good driver, having failed the test twice before finally obtaining my license. I was something of a pro at navigating the bus system, which got me to my work, my parent’s house, and everywhere around the downtown area where I lived quite efficiently. Although I worked a job that occasionally ran until bar time, it didn’t seem like that big a deal to my younger self to walk two miles home in zero degree weather. I moved to Louisiana for grad school the following year–the first of seven in which I didn’t drive at all. Everything I needed on a daily basis, from fast food to toiletries, was within a short walk of both campus and my house nearby it. I didn’t cook much, and rarely with perishables, so when I did need to make a grocery trip I was usually able to arrange a ride with friends. At the time, I honestly thought I would never drive again, and I might not have had I not desperately tried to save a failing relationship by proving to my girlfriend I could overcome my fear and loathing to do something responsible and “adulty” (read: get my license back. As an aside, the day after I got it back, I had to drive my ex-girlfriend’s car over what was literally the longest bridge in the world. I was terrified for the entire half-hour I cruised above Lake Ponchartrain).
Over the next decade, driving became an increasingly integral part of my life. I had friends scattered all over Madison, but equally importantly, the car allowed me to escape the city and explore new places. I was once an avid international and national traveler, but when I became too poor to satisfy this wanderlust, local and regional travel became my meaningful substitute. In my periods of despair, escape to the countryside often provided my only happiness. Suddenly an activity I had loathed had turned into one I loved, at least when the setting was a little less urban. Beyond my own happiness, the car had become vital to the manner in which I gave back to the world. It allowed me to lead my much beloved Meetup Group, which convenes once a month at historical sites around Southern Wisconsin and Northern Illinois. Many of the group’s members have expressed their appreciation for my efforts, facilitating friendships while also introducing them to places they never knew existed. I also used my car to get to other volunteer activities around Madison, as well as providing small services like rides for friends.
All of these things have left me chomping at the bit to get a new car, as has one other fact: my girlfriend totaled her car two weeks before my most recent accident. To drop from two cars to none in a matter of weeks has been exceptionally frustrating. Unfortunately, neither of us has been able to start the search for a new one. I will not speak to my girlfriend’s reasons, but in my case, it has been because my mother (who wishes to be part of the selection process, as she will co-own the next car) has been out of state for more than a month helping her own mother transition to assisted living after falling and breaking her hip. As impatient as I am, I recognize that my mother’s priorities are right where they should be. Because I struggle with empathy, I have to cognitively think of my mother’s and grandmother’s burdens to counterbalance my own selfish emotions about the car.
That being said, the inconvenience is more than minor this time around. Perhaps more accurately, it is a moderate inconvenience that is the sum total of numerous little inconveniences. When this type of thing happens, some priority shifts are thrust upon you. You worry about whether insurance will renew you, or how much they will raise your rates. You have only a matter of weeks to pay the traffic ticket, which you have to budget for if you have an entry-level salary like me. You also have to budget for a bus pass, and it’s hard to tell what kind you need when you don’t know how long things will take. Initially, I was hoping to get away with a 10-ride pass (cost: $10 with disability discount), but when I used that up, I decided to splurge for the 31-day unlimited ride pass (cost: $32.50). Other priority shifts creep up on you. When you have a car at your disposal, you often don’t give a second thought to leaving the house to perform some minor tasks. As the days pass during this increasingly cold autumn, however, I start to ask myself how important it is that I go visit the library for a book or swing by to chat with a friend for an hour. Occasionally it is a blessing in disguise–my reticence to wait for hours for a bus, or to make numerous transfers, has forced me to eat out significantly less often. Usually, however, it is just a pain in the butt. I find myself socializing way less frequently, and even doing more risky things like putting off picking up my medication. Over time this has the potential to lead to isolation, which has been clinically linked to poor health as well as unhappiness.
If “Thank God for my support network” has been a recurring theme in my writing, it is no less so this time. For as much as I have learned about myself and my priorities, much of it disheartening–such as the shame of seeing how much a little cold or an extra transfer will deter me from taking action–I have also learned about the priorities of those around me. I have learned that I can ask for rides from the organizations I volunteer for, and people will take turns picking me up as their schedule allows, even occasionally driving all the way across town if the event is important enough. I have learned that when the bus schedule means choosing between not seeing friends and crashing at their place, these friends will readily offer their couches. I have also developed a sneaking suspicion that all of this works because no one individual is burdened too much or asked to choose my convenience over their own priorities. The whole situation has led me to conclude something that in my heart of hearts I have known for a while: when it comes to priorities, people I care about should always stay towards the top of the list.
Author: Mark Huntsman
Please connect with us if you are seeking support or hoping to learn more about being part of a Supportive, Inclusive, Compassionate, and Kind community:
Join The MindReset!
Check out Events for support groups or live events:
- Follow The MindReset Facebook page
- Follow The MindReset Twitter
- Follow The MindReset Instagram
You are always welcome to connect directly with an individual from TMR at contact@themindreset.com or (802) 377-MIND.
