The Drifter

I had a vanity license plate on my first car: D R I F T E R. My dad used to call me that when I was a teenager because I was so independent and would just take off for awhile and do my own thing. “Well look who decided to come home. It’s the drifter,” was a familiar refrain. When I bought my first car, a 1988 Toyota Camry, he made a present of the nickname and had it emblazoned on my license plate.

Heading off to college at Kent State with a vanity plate for an already very used car was a bit embarrassing, but I did feel like my car was my freedom. Besides, I couldn’t hurt my dad’s feeling by changing the plate. Inside my car I could gather my thoughts, blare music, sing at the top of my lungs, take a road trip, spread my wings, burn some rubber, see the country, get a one-armed sunburn, get off campus, get to my job. I kept the car for 5 years and 220,000 miles.

A combustible engine was always the route to freedom in my family. When I was a tot, my parents were members of the Buckeye Vanners. As members of the van club, we went on road trips, used CB radios and slept in our van. My dad’s handle was Captain Midnight and my mom was Midnight Angel.

My dad always named his cars: The Green Hornet, The Blue Maverick, . . . He had pick up trucks and motorcyles: a Triumph Bonneville, a Kawasaki, a Yamaha and a Harley. The open road meant something to us. The only vacations we took were by car, van or motorcycle. I never traveled by airplane until I was an adult. I went cross country with my dad on his Harley and arrived back home, weathered, windblown and just a little tougher than when I left.

Fast forward and freedom means something very different to me now. I’ve about had it with my current vehicle. I don’t really enjoy driving anymore. I’ve since discovered Cleveland’s Regional Transit System, Greyhound, Amtrak, a bicycle and my feet. Vehicular freedom comes with a big a price: car payments, insurance, accidents, stress, carbon emissions, traffic jams, a sedentary lifestyle, isolation.

I am giving my car to my brother. I'll drop it off when I’m home for Thanksgiving and will take Greyhound back to Cleveland. I’ll try being car-free.