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UFL | Culture

Turns Out, I Never Hated Driving

Isabella Parra Student Contributor, University of Florida
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at UFL chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

Before you start reading: Put on “Heroes” by David Bowie. (The music always made the drive.)

The week before Parents Weekend, I went back home for the first time since moving to college. Something I hadn’t expected to miss nearly as much as I did was waiting for me in the driveway: my car.

Before college, driving was just another part of my everyday routine. I drove about 20 minutes to school, picked up my friends at their houses to hang out, and drove to get food or go shopping. I complained about traffic, hated stopping for gas, and somehow always managed to hit every red light when I was already running late.

But that week home, I drove every single day.

Sometimes I had somewhere to be. Other times, I think I just wanted an excuse to get behind the wheel again.

That first big step, getting your license, is a strange milestone. Your life doesn’t actually change overnight, but the boundaries get a little bigger. 

For most of my childhood, going somewhere meant asking someone else to drive me. Then, at some point in high school, “Can I get a ride?” became “I’m leaving, I’ll be back before dinner.”

I don’t think I realized how significant that difference was then.

Having a car gave me the freedom to have plans without plans. I could get food with a friend because one of us was hungry, not because we had figured out a ride hours before. For the first time, getting from one place to another was mostly up to me.

Over time, my car became a space that was mine. A shelter for solitude in moments when I wanted to be alone.

It was my place, where I could play the same song six times in a row if I wanted to. I had the liberty to sit in a parking lot for thirty minutes before going inside my actual destination. The best nights were driving home with the music turned up until it was the only thing I could hear on the quiet, empty roads. 

Maybe it was never quite “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” standing through the sunroof while “Heroes” plays as you speed through a tunnel. But with the right song playing and an empty road ahead, sometimes it felt close enough.

Some of my favorite driving memories had nothing to do with where I was actually going. 

At the time, none of this felt particularly important. It was just driving. Eventually, the freedom of having a car became so normal that I stopped noticing it altogether.

Then, I moved away for college and left my car at home. 

It’s funny that moving away is supposed to be one of the biggest steps toward independence because in some ways, I felt like I had given up the first independence I ever had.

College gave me a completely different kind of freedom. For the first time, I lived away from my family and made decisions that used to be made for me. No one asked when I would be home, reminded me what time it was, or checked whether I had finished everything I needed to do. My responsibilities and my choices were mine.

But if I wanted to go somewhere, suddenly I had to think about how I was going to get there.

After years of being able to grab my keys and leave, I was back to checking bus routes, walking, asking for rides, or sitting in someone else’s passenger seat. I had more freedom than ever before, yet I couldn’t spontaneously go somewhere just because I felt like it.

In a way, leaving for college meant trading one kind of independence for another.

My high school freedom came with a set of car keys. College freedom came with being completely responsible for myself. One let me decide where I wanted to go. The other asked me to start deciding what I wanted my life to look like.

Maybe that’s why driving again when I went home felt so different.

The roads hadn’t changed. My car hadn’t changed. I was the one who had.

For that week, I got back a version of my life that I hadn’t realized I was already nostalgic for. I could grab my keys, get in the car, and go somewhere without thinking twice. Even the things I used to complain about felt strangely familiar.

I’m sure the next time I’m stuck in traffic, I’ll still complain. I’ll still hate watching the gas light come on, and red lights will probably continue their personal beef against me whenever I’m running late.

But now, when I get behind the wheel, I notice what I didn’t before.

Now, I’m back at college, and my car is back home. I never thought I’d say it, but I can’t wait to drive again. Take the time to appreciate the freedom of your car—you never know when you might miss it.

Isabella Parra

UFL '30

Isabella Parra is a freshman at the University of Florida studying Media Production, Management, and Technology with a specialization in Digital Film and Television Production. Originally from South Florida, she has always loved anything that gives her a platform to express her creativity, especially through film, writing, design, and social media.

In high school, Isabella spent two years on her yearbook staff, first as a writer and later as the Marketing Manager. She currently serves as a Co-Social Chair for UF's Tower Yearbook and is excited to continue exploring writing and media through Her Campus. She especially loves writing about pop culture, film and television, college life, fashion, and the variety of topics she can't stop thinking about!

Outside of school, Isabella is almost always watching a new show or movie. She loves listening to music, playing tennis, spending time with friends, and collecting trinkets like Sonny Angels. She has a wide variety of interests, ranging from anime and K-dramas to fashion and video games. She also loves discovering new music, exploring Gainesville, and finding new things to obsess over. As someone who refuses to stick to one niche, she is always looking for new things to watch, try, and write about.