My way or the highway

Guys, I did it. 15 years after getting spooked by a car accident, in which I hit a judge (he was OK!) and totaled my car, I finally drove on the highway again. Two, actually! The Merritt Parkway AND I-95 (by accident - Waze led me astray). Regardless, I did it, and I handled it in stride. I was anxious as I sidled up along the Merritt for the first time, not so gracefully merging into the flow of traffic. As I drove, I grew more comfortable. I remained calm, cool and collected. I had dragged Hubs along for the ride for moral support. He was on work calls but nonetheless helped me feel at ease. But really I relied on my inner bravery and strength. My inner badass, as cheesy as it sounds. I thought to past advice and I reminded myself that I can do anything. I'm a grownass woman. Hubs reminded me that I'm more qualified than half the drivers on the road. This was both reassuring and terrifying.

My heroine's journey took me to Westport, from my home in New Canaan. The two towns are very close, and I often venture to Westport for the town's beaches, food and stores. But usually I take the backroads, thanks to Google Maps's ingenious "avoiding highways" option. I suppose that feature was a crutch for me, but I'm not ashamed. It's OK to take baby steps sometimes. I'm getting more and more comfortable on the road, and I'm making strides. I'm setting another goal for myself: drive to NYC. Lofty for me, but totally doable. As I discussed with my cousin recently, I don't want to be one of those women (they're usually women) who can't drive to the city from the burbs. I want to feel free and not dependent on Hubs and Uber drivers for rides to Manhattan. Equally important, I adamantly don't want to set that example for my girls. They need to see me believing in myself and being independent. They need to see mama in the driver’s seat.

Driving Miss Amy