To Drive or Not to Drive

 When I was in high school, I really wanted to be able to drive my van. I took driver's ed, and I did all my hours of road practice in a ginormous boat of a van that was equipped with a raised platform, smaller steering wheel with zero resistance, a t-stick gas and brake, and a touch screen pad for starting the engine and turning on the lights and windshield wipers. (This was super high-tech for the year 2000!) I passed my written and driving test and got my driver's permit at the age of 17, and my independence on the road was so close, so real I could taste it.

The only thing to do was get my own minivan and have it equipped. Handicap vans are expensive... like, double the cost of a normal van. And that cost is for the standard of a lowered floor, a ramp, an automatic door, and a safety lock or tie-downs. Add to that the cost AGAIN to afford the high-tech driving equipment. There was no way me or my family could afford that. So I put in a request through Vocational Rehabilitation (a mouthful, which those of us on the inside shorten to "Voc Rehab" or "VR") to pay for it. 

I had no idea that the North Carolina offices of VR would treat me like I was asking their staff to use their personal money to get me a Ferrari... seriously, the next year of my life was a series of frustrating experiences: VR would tell me I needed to get a note from my doctor, then to see an occupational therapist, then a neurologist, then get a second opinion on each, and every time I jumped through their hoops they had another reason to deny my request, even though every specialist I saw said I was capable of being a competent and safe driver. In the end, they flat-out rejected me because my disability is progressive and they didn't think I'd be able to drive very long; the potential limit to the years I would use the equipment did not make it worth the cost. 

...I know. 

As a birthday/graduation present, my parents got me my first car - a used purple Dodge minivan, with an automatic ramp, a space for me to sit up front in the passenger seat area, and a bonus: Rich Mullins' "Songs" album was in the CD player (still one of my favorite albums of all time). My friends gave me fuzzy dice to hang in the rearview mirror, a cow-print steering wheel cover,  and magnetic 'kissy teddy bears' which made-out in the back seat throughout my college years. I loved it, but was still so devastated that I couldn't be in the driver's seat. 

I went to college that fall and almost immediately met a girl named Shannon who loved Jesus, Gilmore Girls, and math, and learned to drive on her mom's minivan, so she was up for driving my purple monkey, whether to the grocery store for Pop Tarts or to the beach for fall retreats. She is still one of my favorite people on the planet. I met lots of other friends in college who either loved driving minivans or were crazy enough to try. And looking back over the last 20 years, I realize that some of the most significant moments, profound conversations, and precious friendships happened with people who drove my van. Those things probably wouldn't have happened if I could have driven myself. 

OK, fast forward to this past spring... the VR of Indiana is VERY different than in North Carolina. The people I've talked to there are so generous and creative and helpful. I went to them to ask for one minor home modification, and instead of getting the obnoxious "Access Denied" sign flashing in my face, they offered a whole list of additional things they could do for me. When they learned that I have a van but don't drive it, they were shocked - and when they heard my story, they were appalled. "I'd like to get you in for a driving assessment," my case worker said, and soon I was on the schedule. I could hardly wrap my mind around the possibility of actually driving, and I dared to resurrect that dream.

My assessment was scheduled for today. But two days ago I called and cancelled it. 

...I know. 

The crazy thing is, when I tried to resurrect that dream, I realized I didn't have it anymore. Regardless of the amazing technology that is available now, I know I would not feel safe or comfortable driving alone. My reflexes are so slow, and my strength is so precarious, I would want to have someone with me, and I'd be a hot mess of nerves thinking about the high risk I would put us both at. Driving would not feel like freedom or independence or joy to me, so... why would I want that? And why would I trade great conversations and opportunities to connect with friends on this level, for the sake of doing this alone?

I think it is wonderful that there is so much equipment that promotes independence and dignity for people with a wide variety of needs and limits. It gives me hope when I see innovative, brilliant people use their powers for good. I'm proud of my friends and heroes who use adaptive equipment to drive, eat, cook, and play. And I am so thankful for the loving family and community that God has surrounded me with who give me dignity and purpose by acting as my hands and feet to mobilize and empower me to do all the things I am called to do. Please don't forget that people helping people is the very best kind of accessibility there is. 

The Lord has given me new dreams and is fulfilling them better than I could have imagined. He knew (and knows) what I need and what is best for me, and I am so glad he is the author of my story and I can trust him.