Safe, not sorry

Those tricky Stoic gods have been at it again. Putting obstacles in my way to test my mettle. Crushing my spirits and taking away things I love. Proving, yet again, that nothing, ever, is permanent. 

I know all this, and yet.

When my convertible was stolen from the driveway, I was crushed. Then, few weeks later, I learned that not just my car—but also my driveway and the house attached to it—also were no longer “mine.”

But were they ever? Of course not! 

We’re all living on borrowed time. Squatting on borrowed land. Eeking out a borrowed existence. 

But oh, that sporty car!

All through Covid, I felt so free. I could zoom-zoom mask free on open roads with the top down. It was the perfect complement to my sluggish camper van, where, even with a snoring dog, I could sleep. Isolated from germy strangers, I felt safe. 

As a single woman—a single mother for the past 14 years—I’ve thought about safety a lot. Yet, as an unconventional bad ass who takes all kinds of chances, I’ve learned to put my worries aside.

So, when I give in to safety, I do it with full awareness.

Don’t you?

What does safety even mean? And how does that change as we age? 

During the pandemic, I found a cuddle buddy—actually more than one—because I knew I couldn’t survive the isolation without human touch. I rationalized that we could hunker in the bunker together. Until their extracurricular exposure freaked me out.

When Covid was over, I put my consulting business on hold and committed to a full-time job. After two expensive eye surgeries, good health insurance seemed safe. I could pay for college for my kid. Thankfully, in exchange I haven’t had to sell my soul. Therefore, I haven’t been sorry.

Speaking of which…

To replace the sporty stolen convertible, I’ve bought a vehicle that tells me what to do. 

That’s just wrong! Or is it?

Adaptive cruise control? In life and in relationship, maintaining a safe following distance has always been problematic for me. Behind the wheel, I follow the speed-limit law. But, otherwise, I prefer to push the pace. 

Lane assist? How boring! At work and in love, staying in one’s lane is so uninspired! But (also true) drifting unintentionally goes nowhere good.

360-degree camera? Transparency is all the rage, sure. But isn’t a little mystery a good thing? But when parking a car that’s a little to big for me—or wondering whether to place my trust in a human who is larger than I am—I feel much safer when I can see and consider all the angles. 

Last year there were more than two million car crashes in America. Ninety percent were caused by human error and more than a third were due to speeding. 

So, maybe we do need a boost from technology. And giving in to help isn’t such a bad thing.

As long as we stay strong and clear-eyed.

As long as it doesn’t change who we are.