Intense Drive

a short essay

Early this week, I spent about three hours at the Low Vision Clinic of the Chicago Lighthouse. I'd been referred to the clinic by my ophthalmologist who thought I could benefit from an agency specializing in services for people whose functional vision is poor even with correction. I came away with some new prescriptions for glasses, a very cool lighted magnifier, a really ugly pair of sunglasses (that do a good job of cutting down glare), three more appointments, and only a tiny bit of self-pity.

In the days since the appointment, I’ve been thinking about where my life is right now and some of the implications of being a person officially labeled with “low vision.” Now, those who know me well, are aware (I hope) that I have a deep fondness for, and advocacy of, public transportation. One of the paradoxes of my life, however, is that I also really like cars. I can tell you about the history and meaning of the Mecedes Benz logo, I’ve read books about the development of the VW Beetle, while in college I had a poster of Stig Blomqvist (q.v.) on my wall, I have been to car museums (and liked it), and I still have a ridiculous amount of pride in knowing that I can operate a car with a manual transmission (rather, I could operate it, but I’d probably hit something). After my appointment, I’ve begun to frame this paradox in a different way: Cars and car culture are psychologically addictive and I think that I’m lucky inasmuch as the poor visual acuity that prevents me from driving has helped force me to address this addiction in myself.

Our society has been so oriented around the individual car that it is often impossible to even imagine that any other viable alternative could exist. Cars seem somehow to be an inevitability. But they are sold not just as necessary. Advertisements, media, and too many politicians celebrate them as “convenient” things that give you “freedom.” Except that those qualities disappear the moment you have an accident, or the month your car starts to wear out, or you get stuck in traffic, or the cost of financing eats into your budget for necessities. If you think about the personal cost of owning – repairs, maintenance, insurance, fuel, storage – the convenience and freedom evaporat

I think that the societal costs are so much higher.

Without even mentioning the roads and infrastructure needed to make driving a national pastime, emissions are doing harm to the climate we are already witnessing. Electric vehicles are promoted as an answer for environmental degradation, but they have their own issues. As the BBC reported back in 2019; “The [British] government’s Air Quality Expert Group said particles from brake wear, tyre wear and road surface wear directly contribute to well over half of particle pollution from road transport.” (https://www.bbc.com/news/business-48944561). Because of batteries, electric vehicles are heavier than their internal combustion counterparts so that tire, brake, and road wear are even greater. And they, of course, introduce the geopolitical problem of rare earth metals, battery disposal, and the real challenges of trying to extinguish an electric vehicle fire.

For me, however, there is yet a more personal and insidious aspect of the addition to automobiles. Certainly during my lifetime (and even before), various experts have pointed to aspects of life that, they believed, caused anti-social behavior. In the early part of the 20^th century, it was alcohol. By the 1950’s, it was comic books (no, really – read about Fredric Wertham). Then it was violence on television, or music (from rock to rap, each had their day), for a time it was video games, or then the internet, itself. Lately, the talk is more about the dangers of “screens.” But from the middle of the last century, a majority of people in this country have gone from one place to another in isolated steel boxes on wheels – they’re climate controlled and soundproofed They allow you to carry your own environment and amenities with you. I think that it can start to make the real world – the world beyond the safety glass of your auto bubble - seem more of an illusion. The car encourages isolation from others in society.

I have seen this, and I have experienced it, myself.

The car addiction isn’t going to end tomorrow (yeah, I know, you can quit any time, but … ). Maybe just take a day off once in a while. Step out from behind the windshield. It’s nice out here.