I grew up in a semi-rural area on a road without sidewalks, a few miles from the nearest bus stop. My parents still live there and as my dad enters his eighties, I’ve tried to initiate conversations with them about how they imagine navigating when they can’t drive safely anymore.
Like many of us who have tried to have these conversations with aging loved ones, I didn’t get very far. “I would rather be dead than not drive,” my dad told me.
I’m not sure he thought through the implications of that statement for my life as someone born with a disability that prevents me from driving. And I think it speaks to how deeply the narrative that “everyone drives” shapes the futures people will consider. Even with a daughter who has never been able to drive, and still managed to live a full and vibrant life, my father was struggling to imagine what his life will be like when he can’t drive himself everywhere he wants to go.
And it’s not like having a nondriving family member is that rare. Research published last September from NRDC found that 36.6 percent of the population over the age of 10 in the US cannot drive or lack reliable access to a car. Yet nondrivers remain largely invisible. I would conjecture this is largely due to who is most likely to be a nondriver: disabled and poor people, recent immigrants and people of color, young people who can’t yet vote, and people who have aged out of driving.
I would argue that part of the reason so many seniors struggle to imagine a life without driving is a failure to appreciate how many nondrivers exist in their own communities — nondrivers who have developed tactics and strategies for getting where they need to go.
Why are nondrivers so invisible to the driving population? I’d conjecture that while part of this invisibility might be due to “car brain,” or the collective advertising and cultural might of an auto-centric society. I think that it’s also deeply rooted in the stigma surrounding being not able to drive. And it’s this bias that we need to confront if we’re going to do what I think is necessary: ask people who are aging out of driving to see other existing nondrivers as their role models, teachers and allies in learning how to live without driving themselves.
My favorite part of publishing a book about nondrivers has been getting to combat this stigma and build community among people who often had felt pretty alone in their inability to drive. I asked this network of contacts I’d developed through my work about their advice for people who were new to being nondrivers.
“Connection plays a huge role,” shared Sophia Young, a young nondriver and free-rides-for-youth transit organizer from Regina, Saskatchewan. “Being supported in learning how to use transit, having someone to travel with at first, or simply knowing who to ask for help can make the difference between feeling isolated and feeling capable. When those supports exist, nondriving can become a different, more connected way of moving through a community rather than a form of isolation.”
“To know that you’re not the only person, because it can often feel like that, when you’re in this culture where everybody drives, I think that can be a really valuable source of moral support,” added Kim Huntress-Inskeep, a nondriver from Seattle, Washington.
I actually met Kim when we were both living in NYC. She moved to Seattle before me, and when I started to consider relocating there as well, I messaged her to see what Seattle would be like without car access. She assured me I’d be okay, and connected me with other nondriving parents, who became my informal support network.
Among the nondrivers in my network I surveyed, the decision of where to live was cited as the most critical. Amara Schermerhorn, a low-vision nondriver from Washington shared. “The most important tip for a nondriver is to live close to transit. I don’t think there’s anything more important.”
“I’ve never been able to drive, and so for me, it’s always been a matter of location,” shared Charles Hamilton. a low vision Seattle nondriver and rail advocate. “When I move, transportation is the very first thing I look at.”
Charles also pointed out that this only works if you have the choice to move and can consider locations with good transit access. “Some people don’t.”
It’s not just a matter of whether that transit exists, pedestrian access to that transit and to nearby locations is also critical. Judy Jones and her husband, who are both blind, told me how, when they were living in Florida, they had to back out of buying a home when the arrived at the closing only to discover that the adjacent crossing didn’t have audible pedestrian signals as they’d been told, so they wouldn’t be able to access their bus stop safely.
But even if you’re able to move to a location with good transit, pretty much whenever you live in North America, transitioning from driving to not-driving means you need to plan for more travel time.
Blake Duarte, a lifelong nondriver and wheelchair user from University Place, Washington shared: “Trips are going to take a lot longer. I really have to consider how long each bus trip and transfers will take to arrive at my destination on time.” Another nondriver suggested to plan for half an hour of buffer time if you want to ensure you’re not late. This is an adjustment from the driving mentality where traffic delays often get measured in increments of a few minutes, with a ten-minute delay being seen as extraordinary.
Exploring if bikes, trikes, mobility scooters or even golf carts could expand your mobility access is another nondriver tactic. Of course this is very dependent on the infrastructure in your community — are sidewalks smooth and wide enough? Is there bike lane or multi-use trail infrastructure?
In my book, I wrote about Ivy Take, who like me has a visual impairment that prevents her from driving. But she does see well enough to bike and to drive a golf cart, and when she was raising her kids in suburban Arizona, the golf cart was her primary form of mobility which she was able to make work by combining a network of multi-use trails, suburban parking lots, and sidewalks.
Being prepared for the elements is also something that people relying on transit, walking, rolling or biking must be more cognizant about than people who drive. Comfortable backpacks or rolling carts for groceries, as well as waterproof layers for yourself and your belongings (plastic bags are very useful) all came highly recommended. Dressing with layers, knowing you’ll be waiting is a change of mindset from dressing for your destination. But again, it’s not an insurmountable challenge and with all the available gear for outdoor adventures these days, you can learn what you need to be comfortable (as someone who is perpetually cold, I recommend batter-powered gloves and vests).
For some nondrivers, access means being able to regularly tap into a network of driving friends, family and colleagues. Tim Tegge who is a low-vision nondriver living in Bowling Green, Ohio recommends budgeting so you can offer gas money or gift cards to those who regularly provide you rides. He also recommends being intentional.
“Analyze your network of friends, colleagues and contacts to identify potential drivers,” Teege told me. “Begin asking them if you could get a ride from time to time. And reach out to them occasionally about non-driving topics. I find that I can feel guilty if I haven’t spoken to someone in a while and my first call is asking them for a ride. Feeling that way can make me hesitant to ask them.”
That feeling of being a burden can prevent many nondrivers from asking for rides. It’s a sentiment I’ve heard echoed across many nondriver interviews, and is also backed up by research about nondrivers in Washington State that found that younger, lower income, disabled and female nondrivers are more likely to feel guilty about access for rides.
Amanda Sutherland, a blind nondriver from Marysville Washington shared “Whenever I call or text somebody asking for a ride I start to wonder, are they going to get back to me or not? Should I call a second person? There are times I would rather walk, even several miles, than deal with the anxiety of finding a ride.”
So that leads to my final recommendations for seniors aging out of nondriving. Join an advocacy group in your area that’s pushing for better and more accessible options for transit, walking, rolling and biking. Not only can this be a path to connect to other nondrivers so that you learn tips for navigating the system, but you start now to help make the changes that will allow the transportation system to work better for you once you can’t drive. Another idea? Participate in the Week Without Driving, and invite your elected leaders to join you as well.
If you’re interested in learning about Week Without Driving, the kickoff planning webinar will take place February 25. Register on Zoom.
