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One of the few things I’m sure of in this world is this: It takes a real asshole to purposefully lean themselves over your sleeping form, and roar into your face. My cat, Gary, taught me that at about 4:27 one dreadful morning.
In an instant I went from enjoying a very pleasant dream -- driving a Subaru through a shopping mall -- to seeing that cat’s horrible, nasty mouth, two inches from my eyeballs, emitting a sound like a parrot receiving a rectal exam. My parents said I fainted out of bed. All I know is that today I get an involuntary spasm whenever I see a Subaru ad. Thanks Gary.
I tell you this for a reason, and that is to relate this juicy bit of irony: Turns out I won’t be looking at any car ads for a long time, because I’m not allowed to drive (Laugh with me!). Yes, the decision was made partially by me, but mostly by my parents. For some undisclosed reason (that may or may not have to do with the $350 for driving lessons) they have decided that it be “best that I wait” another year or three before getting my permit.
So what am I to do? Walk, of course.
For as the adage goes, it is not the destination that matters, only the journey. So what if I’ll need to walk my date to Senior Ball. I have been proudly walking places since I was two years old, there’s no reason to stop walking tall now.
In fact, thanks to the media, I can feel like a hero. As a zero-emission citizen, I am already a bona fide saint in the eyes of the environmentalist movement. I’ve already found myself channel surfing just to watch every single one of those creepy global warming PSAs. Those innocent future-children on TV… It will become my sacred duty, as a Walker, to chastise the world for their sake and others, whose lives will be ruined because of those wasteful slobs who rev-up the Hummer for a trip to the mailbox.
If that wasn’t enough, there’s the casualty reports from Iraq. The few thousand gallons of oil I’ll be saving just might be enough to prevent one soldier from going out there to secure more of it.
I am not walking because my cheap ass parents won’t buy driving lessons. I am walking to save children and the environment. I am walking for America. So in a strange way I feel ok, even glad about not having my permit. But in a not-so-strange way, I still feel like roaring in someone’s face.


In 1996 an independent study showed that over three-quarters of teens get into an accident within their first year of driving. According to FEMA, this means that by 2008, 78% of all teens will be fatally injured on the road. As discerning young members of society, it is natural that many teens will worry over the complete exactitude of such figures. But when you’re a designated pedestrian, does it even matter? This is the kind of freedom that walking has offered me.