The big Taboo – My driving when no longer fit

A few weeks ago and far too late I forced myself to stop driving. It took me a long time before I admitted it to myself, then to my wife, my doctor, and eventually others—it was truly painful for me to face. Thinking about it now and having had feedback from a number of people, I am starting to see how big an issue it is and how deeply it is swept under the carpet. Driving when no longer fit to!

Looking back, I held onto a false pretense for too long, for all the wrong reasons. By the grace of God, I got away with it. For those who don’t care about driving, this won’t matter and in fact you will simply not understand it—but for others, it’s a quiet struggle no one’s likely to thank me for bringing up. Still, it needs to be said even though I am one of the biggest hypocrites around.

I loved driving. It felt like part of who I was—the independence, the freedom, that little cocoon. There was an adrenaline rush too, from racing a Ferrari in Italy (a 30-minute rental where I pushed way too fast) to flying down the Autobahn in Audis and BMWs, or winding through the Blue Mountains, South of France, and the PCH. Most of all, I cherished being the dad who drove his kids everywhere—picking them up, running to Eilat for random things, or settling them to sleep as babies with a midnight cruise while they grinned back at me.

Despite being someone who hugely values and lives according to the law, pays his taxes, declares all income but ‘a little’ speeding was the one acceptable law to break for no good reason.  I remember the debates with my youngest daughter – I even tried to disable the speedometer that shows on Waze thinking she might not notice. Again – I accept the claim I am and was a hypocrite.  I guess we all have out weaknesses – driving however impacts far more than just us.

Five years ago, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. The hardest question I asked once at the beginning and then avoided at all costs was whether I could keep driving. After all I was only 45. As the years went on, I dodged that question with the doctors. I felt fine, mostly—except for those times I was too tired and learned to pull over for a nap. Once, I narrowly escaped disaster, nodding off at 110km on Route 6.  Largely true but I never truly tested it. My car’s safety features—brakes, vibrations, alarms, lane sensors—jolted me awake. I called it a blip and carried on. My awesome logic was always that my PD symptoms only effected me when standing up.

Lately, though, my driving noticeable slipped. My kids and wife noticed the bumpy, stop-start rides. In my head, I blamed the car, not the Parkinson’s creeping deeper.

Then, a few weeks ago, came a brutal blow: it is probably not be Parkinson’s but PSP, a rare, horrific cousin where one of the central points of diagnosis which I have is called Vertical EYE Palsy. Even at that appointment, I sidestepped one detail. My eyes had been blurry for days, yet I’d driven anyway and said nothing. That was Thursday. Friday morning, I took the kids somewhere and felt awful—the guilt crushed me. I guess there are parts of the body where malfunction is a minor issue for driving…the eyes is not one of them.

All afternoon, I wrestled with myself. An hour before Shabbat, a day after being told to end my career at 49, I told my wife I had to stop driving. I was a danger—to myself, my family, everyone. I emailed my doctor before Shabbat and after synagogue Friday night I told the kids. Amusingly, one of them immediately jumped in with: “Does that mean I can now have the car :-)”

It was so hard. People who don’t drive might not get it—they could read this and see me as a reckless fool. Maybe they’re not wrong, and I’m grateful I dodged the worst.

But I know others will understand, maybe even face the same question. I was a hypocrite, no denying it, yet I got a free pass. Two things stand out to me now.

First, it’s right to stop before you’re made to. It’s just not worth the risk.

Second, life keeps going. I don’t love being driven—I live on a Yishuv, so getting around isn’t easy—but it’s not as bad as I feared. I’m actually okay with it and feel lighter, knowing I’m not a threat on the road.

Maybe I’m the only one who’s wrestled with this, but I doubt it. It’s worth thinking about. And I wonder if doctors could do more to guide people through this, or sometimes step in sooner.

I used to think driving defined me—I was good at it, if I do say so. It doesn’t. I thank God every day for the joy it brought me and that I never saw the worst come to pass.

To all those people out there who simply hate me for raising it – a few weeks ago I would completely have agreed with you and I am prepared to accept the title of being a ‘hypocrite’….Sorry but you know it is important.