Scooter Saga

Since I was no longer driving*, we had decided to go with one automobile.  In May, Earl sold his BMW, partially because we were now a one car family and partially to get an automatic transmission.  After years of driving fun cars, it was his turn to bite the humiliation bullet.  While we waited for the new vehicle to arrive, we hung on to the Prius. The old car Actually, letting go of the Prius was even harder (for me) than selling the Beemer.  We had bought it in 2008 from our son when he got his corporate vehicle.  It had been my car and taken me through my final driving career.  It had hauled both the old and new motorized scooters and the walker, never complaining (spare me comments about over–personification**). Eight years old and it still only had 45,000 miles on the odometer.  Maybe I was the legendary 'owned by a little old lady...blah, blah, blah'.  In June, we sold it to our nephew for his daughter, so the Prius was owned by th...

My 66th birthday heralded the expiration of both my driver's license and my handicapped parking placard.  I had already made the decision to give up driving*, but for several reasons, still preferred a driver's license as identification over a photo ID.  It was also time to face some of the outcomes of my neurological progression and request renewal for a wheelchair, rather than the basic parking placard.  I realize handicapped parking spaces fill up fast**, but wheelchair–specific parking spaces are less likely to be used for non–essential reasons. I knew that I needed my physician's signature in order to renew the handicapped parking placard and had requested that two months in advance. I thought the renewal process was going to be a simple errand Earl and could do on our way to lunch. Granted, I was now older, but last time I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles, the staff was extremely relaxed about department regulations. However, the DMV staff member ...

I knew the relationship with my car was coming to an end.  Having always been a good driver, confidence had never been an issue–now it was. As I aged and my ataxia progressed, there were more visual changes*. I had already limited my car excursions**, but in my mind, that was no longer enough.  I still had the judgement and cognitive ability to avoid being a careless driver, but not the visual precision and motor reflexes necessary to avoid the careless driver.  I was happy to have anyone else drive, but the further loss of my independence was one more humiliation bullet to bite. It doesn't matter what accident circumstances are.  In our litigious society, a person with the overt disability will always be seen "at fault".  One look at a walker in the back seat, and my soon-to-be former insurance company would just write the check.  I had to face up to not only increasing the risk of injury, but threatening our financial security as well....

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 s...