Yes, I’m Seventeen; No, I Can’t Drive
By ABBY FOSTER ‘19
We’ve all seen it in the movies—a boy in a letterman jacket and a girl in a poodle skirt sit in some local diner, skin squeaking against vinyl seats. They came from his football game, or maybe the homecoming dance, but regardless of the situation her blonde ponytail bounces with every kitten-heeled step as his arm encircles her waist. They rode there in his car; it’s red (or black) and low to the ground, with lightning-bolt decals flashing on each side. It’s the same car they take to the drive-in movie, the same car he rides in with his friends, none of them wearing seatbelts. They cruise down the streets of their small towns in cackling delight—they’re just on the brink of adulthood, and this car is so much more than a car.
That blond haired, blue eyed, apple-pie America doesn’t exist anymore—actually, you could argue that it never existed at all, although the decade of the 1950s has been immortalized in this style. One facet of the above description still rings true, however; even in the 21st century, a teenager’s ability to drive seems unanimous with their coming of age. Having a car is a rite of passage. If you don’t have one, or don’t want one, you’re an oddity. Owning and driving a car is the backbone of the American teen experience—how else can you go to rock shows and rebel against your parents? We adore this physical representation of every teenage cliché ever. An angry teen driving his parents’ car around the suburbs is the ultimate irony—sure, he can cruise to the 7-Eleven, but he’s still trapped in the town, just as he’s trapped in the childhood he tries so hard to shake off.
In the mid-nineteenth century, America went through a transportation renaissance. The Wikipedia page for “1950s American Car Culture”—something so specific I’m shocked other people have researched it—credits this boom to overflow industrialism; “the American manufacturing economy switched from producing war-related items to consumer goods at the end of World War II, and by the end of the 1950s, one in six working Americans [was] employed either directly or indirectly in the automotive industry.” Cars wormed their way into every aspect of pop culture, and drive-through restaurants and drive-in movies sprouted up to fill a role the public didn’t even know they wanted.
I was startled to find that, despite the automobile propaganda flooding our every orifice—if you’ve ever seen a car commercial on prime-time tv, you’ll know what I mean—most modern teenagers are characterized by a distinct indifference towards driving. As an article from The Atlantic entitled “The Decline of the Driver’s License” notes, “young people are not getting driver’s licenses so much anymore. In fact, no one is.” The truth is, twenty-first century teenagers just don’t like cars as much as America wants them to. We just don’t care that much.
I live a fifteen minute walk from my high school, and there’s a bus stop outside of my house. I’m a seasoned user of public transportation and have Uber on my phone. I have never, not once, wished I could drive. When people ask me why I don’t have a license yet, I tell them the truth: it’s pretty low on my list of priorities. I have so many more pressing matters to attend to in my daily life that doing all those driving hours just seems unnecessary. Why would I go to all that trouble if I don’t need, or want, to drive?
As it turns out, my opinions towards driving are not as unique as the American media might want consumers to think. In a 2013 study conducted by Brandon Schoettle and Michael Sivak entitled “The Reasons for the Recent Decline in Young Driver Licensing in the U.S.,” the majority of polled respondents said they don’t have a licence because they’re too busy or don’t have enough time. Among the other responses collected were “owning and maintaining a vehicle is too expensive”, “able to get transportation from others”, “prefer to use public transportation”, and “concerned about how driving impacts the environment.” Finally, the study notes that “of the respondents, 22% indicated that they plan on never getting a driver’s license.”
America still loves cars, even though Americans don’t. The mad car-love of the 50’s is just as antiquated as the letterman jacket, vinyl seat, kitten heels vision is, but our society hasn’t been able to leave it in the past. Your teenage years shouldn’t be defined by your ability to drive, just like they’re not defined by your ability to ice skate, or roller blade. Sure, maybe I’m missing out on an important teenage ritual—maybe my teen experience will always be inherently lacking. But times are changing, and I don’t need a license to head into the future.
