by Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams
My husband and I recently made the long trip from our little villa in the Tampa area of Florida, 650 miles up the road to our condo near Asheville. This was our fifth or sixth trip up here since the beginning of the year. I actually lost count. Suffice it to say, when you are of a certain age and you’re traveling up and down the roads on trips that far, it can wear on a body. In spite of that, we decided to make it in one day.
I haven’t driven a lot since about 2011. That year, we went from a three-car family to a one-car couple. Our youngest was off in college and he needed reliable transportation. Seeing no need for us to have two cars, we sold J’s car to said son. Along with the loss of the car meant that I drove very little. My husband became my chauffeur. As one of my dear friends so aptly put it, J (that’s my husband) was spending his days, Driving Miss Debbie.
Now picture a woman who hasn’t driven more than a handful of times in the past seven years, having no choice but to drive the family car from Tampa to Asheville. It was an undertaking I wasn’t in the slightest looking forward to, but I did it with mostly a smile on my face.
