Rules of the Road

A common question I get is, "Do you still drive with your Ataxia?"  The answer is yes–sort of.  I drive familiar, short routes (breakfast, hair appointments, etc.), in the daylight.  Other times, I rely on Earl, Sandie,  family and friends.  But if there's a scooting opportunity, I scoot.  When the time comes that I don't feel safe, I hope to turn in the car keys before they are taken away.  However, I have to admit it'll be a struggle when they "pry them from my cold, dead hands"(well, scratch the dead part). But it will be one more humiliation bullet, no matter what.

I don't drive exactly like an old lady, but close.  I'm more cautious.   I avoid the stereotype often attributed to elders.  First of all, I'm tall, so my head shows way above the steering wheel.  Second, my hair color is blond (blue doesn't become me and I don't gray well; my gray hair would look like dirt).  I follow the speed limit, which may be slower than the other drivers, but is still in the reasonable legal range.  I don't have trouble staying in my lane, never text while driving, and have a hands free phone-answering feature in my car.  However, I can only answer the phone while parked; those multitasking days are over.  I'm not confident enough to talk hands–free, turn on/off the radio, change the temperature inside...anything that requires attention.  Granted, in newer cars, controls are on the steering wheel, but if they're not projected onto the road, they might as well be in the next state.

The years of bicycling still serve me well, whether on my trike or scooter, in that I learned cycling etiquette.  I wave, acknowledging that I see the driver, stay as far to the right as possible (without going off the road), wear a helmet, bright clothes, and a reflective vest (early post).  There's all kinds of safety crap on my scooter and I look unforgettably strange on both conveyances.  I may have more power with Skeeter, but still dramatically less than a car.  I know I don't have the right of way.

Now when Skeeter and I take to the road, I'm looking at drivers from an entirely different perspective.
Northwest drivers are too polite.  Just ask a California driver (no, don't get them started). 
"You go."
"No, you go."
"No, you go."
They often don't merge well and have no idea how to negotiate a round–about.  Probably an over-generalization, but that never stopped me before.

But when they spot a motorized scooter, some become insufferably polite and that can drive me crazy (pardon the pun).  When in doubt, I try to remember to think of myself as a considerate cyclist rather than an insufferably polite Northwesterner.  My tendency when I'm scooting is to be too courteous, giving everyone the right of way, whether they have it or not.  I've learned that's almost as bad as never yielding the right of way.  Remember the rules, Tam...

When a car (not a friend or neighbor) comes up behind me and stops, slows, or leaves enough room for two trucks side by side, I feel my wicked witch side begin to emerge.  I know it's not rational thinking–the driver is just trying to be considerate of me.  It would wreck their day to hit a person with disabilities.  Perhaps they're uncertain about their own driving, but it's so...demeaning.  I recognize that the driver doesn't know for certain that I'm not demented, unpredictable, recently escaped from a lock–down unit, or unable to hear traffic.  But come on–really? 

My Pollyanna side usually wins out. I used to be one of those drivers, so I can appreciate caution.  Skeeter taught me that it can be more about the driving than the scooting.  But when a car passes me, at the speed limit, with a little more (not a lot more) room, I feel like giving them a high five.  YES!

In my dreams

The lesson:  Remember the rules and be on the look out for idiots.