{"id":1138,"date":"2017-01-30T18:15:02","date_gmt":"2017-01-30T23:15:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/?p=1138"},"modified":"2017-01-30T18:15:02","modified_gmt":"2017-01-30T23:15:02","slug":"on-becoming-an-older-driver","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/on-becoming-an-older-driver\/","title":{"rendered":"On Becoming an Older Driver"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"altshul<\/a>Sara Altshul <\/strong><\/span>
\nAGS Staff Writer<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t run right out and get my driver\u2019s license on my 16th\u00a0<\/span>birthday, like so many of my high school pals did. In my rural hometown, a car was more necessity than luxury. Town was three miles away, school even further.<\/p>\n

But my overprotective mom was reluctant to let me learn how to drive on her new manual-shift Saab. Instead, she chauffeured me wherever I wanted to go, and if I wanted to get somewhere when she wasn\u2019t around, I walked or got a ride.<\/p>\n

I finally got my license at 18, a few months before landing the coolest summer job of all time \u2013 as a Good Humor truck driver. Soon, I bought myself a $500 Simca, a tiny four-door French beauty whose battery was tied on with a shoelace. I had it for years before it literally fell apart.<\/p>\n

Since then, I\u2019ve driven hundreds of thousands of miles. Two cars I owned during my 40\u2019s topped out at nearly 200,000 miles each. For the three years I lived there, I even zipped through the Italian countryside, up hills and through narrow, cobblestoned streets, in my second-hand, four-on-the-floor Mitsubishi. Coming to a stop on Tuscan hills in first gear took plenty of practice. Just ask my husband.<\/p>\n

Thankfully, I\u2019ve never had a crash and despite a speeding ticket or two over the years, my driving record is pristine.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m 66 now. My faculties are sharp and intact. But when I\u2019m driving, I recognize that I have to be more conscious, more focused, and more alert than my younger self ever was. I exert a deliberate effort when I\u2019m behind the wheel: I don\u2019t pass as frequently, I don\u2019t go as fast, and I don\u2019t take chances like I may have done in the past. I am acutely aware of keeping myself, and my passengers, safe on the road.<\/p>\n

To that end, I\u2019ve learned how to find alternatives to a few scary intersections in my neighborhood, those with blind spots and tricky left turns.<\/p>\n

And I\u2019m dependent on my GPS system to get to unfamiliar places\u2014though I sometimes find it hard to concentrate while listening to a disembodied voice saying, \u201cIn 1000 feet, turn right.\u201d How should I know how far 1,000 feet is? And if I glance at the device\u2019s map for even a moment, I lose focus on the road ahead.<\/p>\n

Along with the GPS, my cellphone competes for my attention. Its Bluetooth links to my music, but it\u2019s distracting to find what I want while I\u2019m driving. It\u2019s equally distracting to accept a phone call via the car\u2019s quirky entertainment system.<\/p>\n

So I play it safe: I look at maps online before I travel unfamiliar routes, so I\u2019m not taken by surprise by GPS directions. I pre-program my music before I get behind the wheel, and I let most phone calls go to voice mail.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m also cautious about the type of weather I drive in\u2014I stay home when it\u2019s snowy or icy, and I try not to drive at night in the pouring rain. I leave extra time to get places I\u2019m not familiar with so I don\u2019t stress out about being late.<\/p>\n

The most serious age-related compensation I\u2019ve made, however, is drinking. Back in the day, I confess to being a little careless about driving after cocktails or wine-enhanced meals. I fancied myself a good enough driver to overcome any fuzziness. Now, I know better. I limit myself to one glass of wine, sipped with dinner, or I make sure my evening plans include a designated driver.\u00a0 I\u2019m looking forward to the future day that I can go back to enjoying having a drink before driving \u2013 in my self-driving car!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sara Altshul AGS Staff Writer I didn\u2019t run right out and get my driver\u2019s license on my 16th\u00a0birthday, like so many of my high school pals did. In my rural hometown, a car was more necessity than luxury. Town was … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4,9],"tags":[65,66],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1138"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1138"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1138\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1141,"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1138\/revisions\/1141"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1138"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1138"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.healthinaging.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1138"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}