The Art Of Driving A Car

Why I love driving

I dare say I grew up in a car. I was always traveling with my parents. I never got carsick, nor did I ever get bored—there was always music to listen to, imaginary scenarios to create, endless thoughts to wander through, hundreds of sunsets to watch, and my favorite glow-in-the-dark silos, which I used to think were magical towers.

I never really thought about whether I wanted a driver’s license. I never thought about the technical specs of cars. I couldn’t answer questions like “BMW or Mercedes?” and honestly, I didn’t care. I didn’t feel jealous seeing my classmates post their speedometers on their insta stories. You could say I don’t know the first thing about cars. Sometimes, I don’t even know which logo belongs to which brand.

And on top of that, hearing about accidents on the road every day turned me into a total wimp at times. So I started pulling a Shakespeare: To drive or not to drive?

And then it spiraled down: If I don’t become a driver now, when will I? What will I drive, when will I drive, will I pass the test, can I even trust myself, etc. You get the idea of what gear my overthinking brain was stuck in…

I don’t even remember exactly how I’ve made the decision in favor of the first option. But I told myself that if I was going to become a driver, I wouldn’t be one of the cool ones, I’d be one of the careful, boring ones, the ones who scold passengers for making too much noise.

Experienced drivers often complain about how many idiots are on the road, how badly the roads are built, and how exhausting it is to stay focused for long periods. But in just one driving lesson last year, when I drove outside of town for the first time and felt the car simply glide over the road while my mind was focused solely on the empty stretch ahead, I had an epiphany:

Being forced to think about only one thing is one of the most freeing experiences I’ve ever had.

Or, in other words: concentration is the vacation of a chronically online brain.

I had so much confidence in that first lesson because I had an answer to everything:

Are you coming out?
No, I’m driving.

Are you coming to class?
No, I’m driving.

How important is it for you to reply right now?
It’s not. Because I’m driving.

Are you going to stress over all your tasks, commitments, and problems, most of which you create yourself? Do you need to?
Nope. ‘Cause I’m driving.

Some may think it’s naive. Others may think it’s dumb. I think it’s genius.

I could easily win the war, and all I needed was… a car.

See? It even sounds like a comeback. "‘Cause I’m driving!"

Forget Instagram and TikTok. Put scrolling aside. The fact that we communicate through messages non-stop has made us impatient for instant replies and anxious over waiting for them. Even something as simple as “Hey man, do you feel like grabbing a coffee?” keeps us on edge. The number of people who might care about my existence at any given moment, the potential wars that could erupt if I turn off my phone, and all these disgusting thoughts that normally consume me do not belong on the road. And somehow… that’s incredible.

We don’t allow ourselves to turn our brains off, and as a result, the speed at which our mental engine runs is a thousand times over the speed limit on German highways. And it never stops. In fact, sometimes, it accelerates. Until we crash.

That’s exactly why I feel like I’m about to fly a rocketship before I fall asleep, and why I feel like I’m meditating when I just calculate speed limits and exits on roundabouts.

The car gives me a sense of unapproachability, the very thing my phone desperately tries to take away. It gives me a feeling of freedom, the kind I forget about when I’m in constant contact with the world.

And somehow, it reminds me of those moments when I was a passenger in the backseat and watched the silos and the rush of everyday life didn’t exist.

If driving makes some people feel like adults because they now carry a few extra documents, for me, it connects me to the 10-year-old kid in the back seat, the one who followed the speed limits of the roads drawn by his own mind. That’s why his battery never drained so fast.