Crossroads

In June 2022, I found myself putting my leg over a motorcycle for the first time despite never having had a driver's license.

I'm a native New Yorker, which means that it's totally fine for me to not have a driver's license. Like, I can tell you that you need to take the R to Atlantic Pacific and transfer to the 4 and take it 15 stops to get to Yankee Stadium from here, but I can't tell you what a clutch is.

My excuse is that in May of 2011, I got into a car accident with my dad, which turned our RAV4 upside down. For those of you who don't know this, RAV4’s aren't supposed to be upside down.

My dad and I were driving to Home Depot when he ran past a stop sign. I look at my passenger, I see a BMW, and right before it hits us, I look at my dad and say, “dad!” and he slams on the brakes. The BMW hits us. We flip over 180 degrees.

My dad and I are upside down in the car, and I am completely startled because all the glass on our windows are broken and our windshield is cracked. I unbutton my seatbelt, I get out the door, and I help my dad get out of his side. I think about what might have happened if my sister was sitting in the backseat, because she never wears her seatbelt.

The people who are seeing this accident happen check in on us and ask us if we're okay. The driver who's driving the BMW comes out of his car and says, “look what you did to my car.”

I didn't really think about it at the time because I had just gotten off the ride at Six Flags that I did not want to be on, so I sat on the sidewalk and we waited for the ambulance to get us.

We get to the hospital, and I text my friends because I'm 18 years old and I really like attention and because I am so glad that I'm alive and that everything's fine. I also text my sisters to let them know that we didn't get lost looking for a fridge and that we were okay, except for my dad having a small headache that was probably from me.

We get home, and the first thing that my sister said to me isn't, “are you two okay?” It was, “I can't believe you crashed the car. I spent $10,000 on it.” I don't listen to people who don't put their seatbelt pod in the back of the car and I went to my room and watched a Green Day music video on YouTube to cope with the day.

For the next couple of years of my life, the passenger seat of a car and I had what you might call “trust issues” in our relationship. It took me a couple of years to even feel comfortable sitting in the passenger's seat of the car.

In 2014, I get my first real job. By real job, I mean they put a MacBook Pro in front of me, I press buttons, and they pay me a paycheck every two weeks. I think a lot of you also have a real job.

I save up money to buy my first car, and learn how to drive. When I show up for my driving test, I know I'm going to fail because the proctor spent an hour and a half trying to get a guy in a pickup truck who had no insurance, no plates, and no registrations to take the test. He would never pass anyone who actually had a steering wheel in his car.

I start the test and when I hit a stop sign, I stop, wait three seconds, and drive past it. He immediately makes me pull over and he says, “you didn't watch for that car in your right lane.” He was referring to a car that had stopped for at least thirty seconds. I blame myself and think that I'm completely incapable of driving a car.

I think the only way that I can be in a car is to do the second best thing: be the best goddamn co-pilot on any trip I can be on with.

If you ever take a road trip, please bring me with you because I am the best form of inflight entertainment.

I will curate 90s pop punk playlists and sing them along with you.

I'll play Weird Al.

I will listen to your life story, and then I will tell you what podcast episode we're going to listen to.

If we go to McDonald's, I'm putting French fries in your mouth while we're driving.

I am the dream copilot.

This setup was great for a couple of years because when my friends invited me to their road trips, we would have these great adventures.

And then 2020 happened and I wasn't allowed in anything that had windows in it with anyone who I didn't already live with.

I spent a lot of time at home.

That same year, my therapist suggested I get a bike to go outside because she could clearly see that I was losing my mind. I bike everywhere in New York City.

People ask me, “isn't that super dangerous? Aren't you scared of getting hit by a car?” and I tell them, “no, it's fine; bikes are really cheap.”

In that moment, I realized I worried more about this vehicle getting hurt more than getting hurt myself, because I've been told that a vehicle is more important than my own life.

In April 2022, I took the driver’s test again and passed because I was motivated by the idea of creating these road trip memories of my own. I knew I passed because the proctor started texting while I was driving, and when he looked up, he said, “yeah, you're good. You can go.”

Two months later, I do laps on a motorcycle in a parking lot of a college in Brooklyn. I get my motorcycle license that day.

When I sat on that bike, I reminded myself that I am worth more than any material object or any shiny car, but I shouldn't let the fear of the worst thing happening stop me from going where I want to go and having some fun doing it.