Driving While Disabled

Has anybody out there driving with a disability had a good (meaning nondiscriminatory, yet appropriate screening for safety) experience getting a license or getting one renewed? Licensing disabled drivers is a gnarly issue, and I don't pretend to know the answers, so I'm glad I'm not in charge. Yesterday, I got my license renewed easily, and I should be happy, but I'm alarmed.

Based on my first experience getting licensed here in Nevada four years ago, I went yesterday with the expectation of hassle and discrimination. My anger over what happened in 2004 really hasn't dissipated, so I'll admit to packing my trusty can of whoop-ass for this return visit.

When I arrived here with a valid driver's license from the state of Georgia and a completely clean record, I was asked to submit a medical affadavit as to my limitations and ability to drive. That in hand, the DMV informed me four years ago that I would have to take a road test.

"No, able-bodied (AB)drivers with valid licenses from other states don't have to do this," I was told. Five people up the hierarchy later, no one but me could see the discrimination in this policy. Not wanting to drive around with an expired license, I was forced to comply. "We need to assess your skills," was all they could say. I wasn't exactly sure what that meant, for the DMV examiner had no training in vehicle modifications or disability. I expected she would be looking at my feet to make sure I could use the floor pedals properly and that she would watch how capably I used the steering wheel.

Clip-board in hand, she sat next to me, instructing me where to turn and what to do. I was more concerned about what she thought of me as a disabled driver and trying to discern what she was doing than being a meticulous driver. At the end of the test, she said she couldn't give me my license because I failed to parallel park to her satisfaction, I drove forward to get out of a parking space when she thought I should have used reverse, and at a stop sign where I couldn't see oncoming traffic around a curve, I stopped in front of the white line and not behind it to improve my view without getting into the intersection.

I was humiliated and furious. She told me nothing I did was illegal, nor would get me a ticket, and that she never felt unsafe as my passenger, but because I made three mistakes, I would have to try again another day. The next day I passed the test.

I'll cop to being a sloppy driver, and not performing perfectly on the exam the first time. My problem is that this test is only applied to disabled drivers. I bet many unsuspecting ABs who haven't had a road test since they were 16 years old would have a similar result. But no, they are allowed to walk in and walk out, licensed and nobody knows how they parallel park.

So fast forward to yesterday, 9/11/08. Internally, I'm wound up, and I'm not missing the somber, explosive associations to this day. I roll up to the desk with my form that indicates muscular dystrophy is the disability that might affect my driving. The charming, lovely clerk looks at the form and struggles to pronounce MD. When I help her with that, she says, kind of whispering, hunching, like it's just between us girls, "Oh, but you're alright, aren't you? You don't have any seizures or anything?" It reminded me of first-graders talking about cooties. When I respond in the negative, she takes my money and directs me to the picture-taking area of the DMV.

So, four years later into a progressive neuromuscular disease, I get a driver's license renewal with no medical affadavit and no road test. This is disconcerting. So, of course I left the building with my chair tires burning rubber.

The state apparently trusts me to figure this out on my own, and maybe that's the ultimate equality we've been fighting for all this time.

The Sweetness of Getting Older

"So how old are you going to be on your birthday this year, Sweetheart?" said my boyfriend of let's just say, umpteen years.

"Forty-six!" I said, trying to make it sound absolutely fabulous.

"Good God, you're an old maid!" he said. I had to giggle. Apparently, it's the sarcasm that makes this relationship work.

So yes, I am marking another year on the calendar, and eventhough I'm going to take a nap as soon as I'm done writing this, I feel pretty good. Young at heart, even. The cards and birthday wishes are pouring in, even from friends I have sadly neglected recently. I'm super lucky to be loved, and I give thanks for that everyday. My friend Suzy, knowing I am a lover of music and lyrics, has sent me a different music card every day this week. How original!

From the package my parents sent, I pulled a package of blueberry scones, just as I was wandering about what special thing I could enjoy for breakfast tomorrow. Tonight, James and one of my best girls, Kris will dine at La Vecchia to celebrate. Tomorrow, it's off to Squaw Valley for the Art Bark Fest, including dock jumping and and wine tasting with dogs and friends crowded all around. My other best girl, Mechele, is off with her daughters swimming with the dolphins in Puerto Vallarta, and that's present enough right there. What a blast. I am a lucky, lucky girl.