My Turn: Those Hand Gestures Didn’t Mean ‘Hello’
It took me far too long to admit I was a danger on the road. How many more like me are still driving?
If cars are inspected periodically to be proved roadworthy, why aren’t drivers? About two months ago I watched my car wag its bumper at me as it was dragged away by a tow truck, and I knew I was waving goodbye to my last car. The time had come to give up driving.
AT 88, AFTER MORE than half a century with a perfect record—well, one illegal U-turn in 1968 and three parking tickets—I finally accepted the fact that I had become a menace on the road. Macular degeneration, or blurred vision, had snuck up on me, and although I had started carrying a magnifying glass in my purse for reading menus, when it came to getting behind the wheel I refused to recognize that I didn’t see very well anymore.
For some time, I had been using my brain more than my eyes for driving. Mostly, I traveled along with the traffic. Whenever I was uncertain about the light and slowed down, the driver behind me always let me know with his horn when it was time to move on. If I got into any sort of confused situation, I simply put on my distress signal and everyone around glared at me and gave me wide berth.
Full Article LINK