“Andrew, several of my friends are long-time Sullivanites (me, too!), and all of us are blown away by your statement that you “still” do not drive. We cannot recall a previous statement from you on the issue. Now, people should be free to call themselves “American” even though they support terrorism, speech codes and the metric system, but under no circumstances can such an appellation apply to someone who eschews the car culture. I’ve just endured multiple rounds of emails from friends speculating as to the reason for your state of relative immobility. Our proffered explanations and retorts include:
(1) Andrew couldn’t hande the transition to the “wrong” side of the road. Answer: No, that’s not it–Andrew is a tough-minded dude who wouldn’t let a change like that deprive him of the independence afforded by having a car.
(2) He’s an anti-modernist who never learned how to drive. Answer: Gimme a break–does a guy who pioneered the political blog strike you as a Luddite?
(3) His health prevents him from driving. Answer: What the hell does having AIDS have to do with being able to drive? Besides, I saw him in a debate with Richard Goldstein last year, and he’s a strapping buck, so I think he can handle a steering wheel and pedals.
(4) He got busted for driving under the influence or some other infraction that involves forfeiture of his license. Answer: I think we would’ve heard about that at least once from the throng of bungholes in the blogoshere who thirst for his blood.
(5) He doesn’t need a car, because all his work is done over the internet and he never has to leave the house. Answer: What about groceries, movies, or going out to dinner?
Andrew, please, you owe your readers some sort of explanation!!”
I readily concede that not being able to drive a car might, in some people’s eyes, be a deportable offense. So why do I persist? I ride my mountain-bike everywhere I need to go in DC or Provincetown, which keeps me fit. I take trains and planes if I need to go far. I have some kind of block when it comes to getting behind a steering wheel. Every boyfriend I’ve had has offered to teach me (no stick-driving jokes please). But I never seem to get around to it; and my life as currently set up doesn’t create a felt need. Biking everywhere saves money; it saves a huge amount of time looking for parking; it keeps me fit; it helps the environment; cabs exist for a reason; cars bore me; and I have enough friends to help me out in a pinch. That’s my excuse. The real reason is that I don’t know.
The Dish 