Once upon the late sixties a girl grew up in New York City walking places and taking subways and buses places and on special occasions taking taxis places and then the girl became a teenager who didn’t want to learn to drive but then the girl became an adult who hoped to move away from New York City someday and so at twenty-five finally got a license so she could move impulsively to LA during rainy season, in which driving was a problem that could only be solved by moving impulsively back to New York City a week later. Then eight or ten years went by and she thought again of moving away from New York City and moved impulsively again, to Chicago this time, except she actually stayed and got a car and drove around and it was fine. It was mostly fine. Except people in Chicago tended to give directions by saying things like It’s at 2200 North and 600 West, which was not helpful to someone not from Chicago, someone from New York City who didn’t carry a compass around, someone who came from a city with numbered streets. She liked not having to schlep groceries home six blocks in the snow, not having to schlep laundry home six blocks in the snow. She liked being able to drive to Iowa to see her dad for a weekend whenever she felt like it. She liked being able to drive to her new boyfriend’s place whenever she felt like it. She liked having a car. She did.
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