“Whaddaya mean you’re in no rush to get your drivers license?”
“I’ll get around to it.”
I remember I lived and breathed to get my hands on the keys to my mother’s ’68 Dodge Coronet 440. (Dad’s Buick was verboten.)
And (as the oldest grandchild) when I inherited my grandfather’s ’64 BelAir, it was a spiritual experience. (But first, my father had to teach me how to drive a car with manual transmission. That was fun.)
So I’ve been at a loss to understand why my niece and at least one nephew were never in a rush to get their licenses.
To us, a drivers license meant instant connection with friends. Freedom.
But this article in The New York Times makes it clear how much times have changed.
“They think of a car as a giant bummer. Think about your dashboard. It’s filled with nothing but bad news.”
Kids don’t find freedom in car keys anymore.
They find it at keyboards.
Given the price of gas, that’s a deal.