I was a little late to get my driver’s license, waiting until the summer before college. A mean instructor the previous December had made me cry and I avoided driving lessons for months until I realized there wouldn’t really be a better time to do this. I had spent the last two years of high school taking the bus home from school and being driven around town by my friends.

I love the passenger seat of a car. All those used Honda Civics and Toyota RAV4s  (and one 1992 BMW) blend together now, but I loved the sound of a car pulling into my parents drive way. I loved climbing into the passenger seat as my friend shoved all her bags and receipts and water bottles into the back to make room for me. I loved not worrying about whether we were taking the fastest route or whether there would…