Blog: When Should a Senior Give Up Driving?

The early risers in my immediate family of so long ago, Dad and Mom had a routine that never wavered from one day to the next during my very early years as their last-born.

Both up at the crack of dawn, Dad would fire up the coal-burning stove and then head for the woodshed to load up ladders, paintbrushes, drop cloths and turpentine for the day that lay ahead of him painting or papering homes in the area; Mom would put on the pot of coffee, the aroma of which still lingers in memory if not in actual scent, putting together ingredients for homemade noodles, donuts or pie crusts while flipping pancakes for breakfast for their hungry brood of kids and sometime grandkids.  

All the while sounds of boot-scooting country music beamed to us by KMA (Keep Millions Advised) and KFNF (Keep Friendly, Never Frown) from Shenandoah, to the south of Atlantic in Fremont/Page Counties...as a young farmer, Dad had worked for the competitive station owners Earl May and Henry Fields who were also owners of acres of nurseries supplying trees of every variety, plants, flowers and bushel baskets of seasonal fruit for home canning.  His show of loyalty to both men was to turn our Coronado radio to either of those stations at the crack of dawn.  

Country music was fed to us along with the maple syrup-covered pancakes, and I ate it up!  

If you ask me who my very favorite country music singer is today, of course I would say...Gary Allan, and for reasons other than I just plain get "revved up" by a singer with a husky voice and whose mother, Mary, just happened to have been my two grandson's after-school caregiver when the two families were neighbors years ago in LaMirada.  

Patrick and Timothy (progeny of Trish and Dennis Derry) were among the first to hear Gary Allan (Herzberg) and his musician friends practice their own brand of country music in the Herzberg family garage, fine-tuning a unique sound that would, in time, sweep over Orange County and lead them to Nashville where their music has since landed them on television, national tours and night spots, a far cry from the local honky-tonks where Gary, since the age of 12, had played in his Dad's country western band.                         

But, before that it was Kenny Rogers, again husky of voice, uttering plaintive words from the soul, that kept me company as I dusted, swept, baked brownies, cranked out PTA news releases for the San Gabriel Valley newspapers, and chaired a year's worth of Rio Hondo PTA meetings.  One song that has remained with me is Kenny's "The Gambler" with lyrics by Don Schlitz and released in 1978.  I'll tell you why in a minute...stay with me.

All the above is a round-about way of sharing with you the back story of a decision I am in the process of mulling over, one that every senior guy and doll has faced or soon will face as the clock ticks on — giving up, letting go, moving on and knowing when.

Look back with me to March 2010, when, after weeks of memorizing traffic laws of the State of California via 3x5 cards, taking sample computer tests on what I had learned after those weeks, I was ready to face DMV and any paper they politely threw at me, put vanity aside and wore glasses for a better eye exam.  I was about to do battle for the prize — a five-year driving license at the age of 85.

Arriving at the Rosemead Boulevard office at 7 a.m., there were about 25 people ahead of me in line, the weather was chilly, rain threatening and Rosemead Boulevard was under construction.  Every nationality and language was represented by those semi-defrosted bodies, some holding coffee (I'm hoping) in hand and one fellow was chomping away on the most delicious smelling burrito I have ever been in the vicinity of!

The tame Nora Roberts romance book I was going to spend time with (this was much prior to "50 Shades of Grey") seemed out of place in this mixed company so I quickly stuffed it back into my Jennifer Lopez (courtesy of Kohl's) shoulder bag and feigned a tax-payer's interest in the road work being tackled by burly, husky-voiced workmen like I was an undercover agent for Caltrans, and that seemed to work...all kept moving, shouting timely instructions, hoping the rain would hold off.  

Time drags at that time of the day and by 7:30 a.m., and noticing that a cuticle or two could stand a bit of nibbling, I did; and as I was about to discard a cuticle by spitting rather than swallowing, I glanced up for a brief second and caught the eye of a personable young man of Vietnamese ancestry who took advantage of the situation by asking the time of day.  Freeze frame, right there!

Maneuvering the cuticle around so that I could answer without hitting him in the eye with the sharpest part of me, I replied to his question which then led to exchanging of pleasantries, and I felt confident enough to "joke around" a little bit and said, "What we really need now is some 'Pre-Test Entertainment,' you know, like they do just before the Rose Parade starts down Colorado Boulevard on New Year's Day."  He agreed.

We continued speaking thusly...my new friend had attended the same high school as my three kids, had some of the same teachers and the conversation was rolling right along "killing time," nerves restored...

Just at that moment, two fellows came running around the corner of the DMV building, calling out "Call 9-1-1, man down!"

Those close by sprung into action, the call was made and Fire Department rescue crews soon appeared on the scene, resuscitated the fallen man who was transported to Arcadia Methodist.  

David, my young friend, and I were at loss for words, considering our previous conversation, spoke not another word to each other; thank goodness, the doors opened and the line of people, now numbering a mob, filed in.  

One thing for sure is that The Incident took our minds off taking any kind of test that morning.  I passed 100% on all counts, and I was approved for another five years.  It was an "Eureka" moment for another reason...I was in and out of the DMV office in less than an hour, but no one will believe me on that one, too!

Today, as I write this Blog, I am begging a question of myself, and any other Senior who might be reading this, perhaps giving thought for the first time to:  Is now the time to voluntarily give up driving, taking into consideration mental and physical health, costs of maintaining a car, availability of alternate transportation, putting at risk other drivers due to the slowing down of personal reflexes, and, yes, pride?

Ever the "cockeyed optimist," I have pretty much sold myself that in 2015 when I reach 90 years of age, it will be the right time for all the right reasons to stop memorizing state driving laws, paying out maintenance bills on my 2003 Toyota and leave the driving to The Three Young'ns OR better yet, the Temple City Dial-A-Ride service that will come to the curb of my home and wheel me away to that fair city for lunch or Live Oak Park with just a telephone call and 50 cents one way.  What a deal!  And Samir Meleika, fellow Volunteer at the Senior Cafe, has kindly offered to tote me back and forth when the need is there...what a guy!

If I was more of an Activist, I would make sure that the City Council of Arcadia gets a copy of this Blog to correct a situation that has gone on long enough and for this altruistic reason...

Since 1950 there has existed a piece of land known as Unincorporated Los Angeles County to the south of Arcadia and east of Temple City and which has been home to countless residents over the years and largely forgotten in the domestic scheme of things.  The advantages for staking claim in this area were many then and many now, but...here's the problem.

Those homeowners who moved into this brand new tract on a rainy day in March so long ago are now Seniors who are, like I am, concerned about driving and parking as they shop at the local Mall, the Arboretum and other places of interest, more than willing to give up both if alternate transportation was available to them...something for the City Fathers to think about or "make a motion."

Now about Kenny Rogers... 

The words to a song he made more than a little famous, "The Gambler" include the admonition..."you got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em!"

Those few words hold truth for every one of us Seniors who is reaching or has reached that stage when we, deep down, sometimes do doubt our driving abilities, but "giving up, letting go, moving on" seems to imply we have somehow failed, or have reached that stage of being "dependent," literally surrendering another "personal freedom."

That very idea is hard to swallow, too, especially when one has had longtime "dubs" on the driver's seat and has commanded "buckle up" of others. 

Hopefully, with age comes wisdom...a wise decision brings its own "freedom."

"Knowing when" does, too...think about it! 

'Til the next time,

CG/CW