Licensed to drive.
Before a teenager hops in Dad’s car and takes it for a spin, he should have some supervision and practice, especially at first.
As a society, it didn’t take us long to figure this out. Shortly after states began issuing licenses to drive in the early 1900s, they began instituting versions of a graduated driving system. In 1921, Connecticut was the first state to license young teens to drive with certain restrictions. New York State created a learner’s permit in 1925. Eventually, while the particulars vary, graduated driver licensing (GDL) became the norm in every state.
The Texas lingo for GDL is “provisional driver’s license.”
TAKING THE WHEEL
My studio practice consists of one employee (me), several regular clients (who have become dear friends), and a world of opportunity upended by COVID-19. On April 27, 2020, Governor Gregg Abbott issued executive orders outlining how the State of Texas would enter a new stage of response to the coronavirus pandemic. In Phase I of this new stage, which began on Friday, May 1, certain business activities and services would be allowed to open with limited occupancy.
Provisional drivers: proud and slightly terrified
The announcement made me feel nervous and empowered, much like a new driver climbing into the driver’s seat. The government was permitting me to take (back) the wheel with the understanding that, for my own protection and the safety of others, there would be provisions.
A day after the governor announced Phase I to Open Texas, I learned that one of my clients would begin reopening his business and was ready to discuss resuming our contract, at least to some degree. Another client increased the monthly limit to my billable hours.
Things were looking up.
The morning of May 1, I grabbed my cotton face mask and my hand sanitizer and for the first time in two months, I left the house to go to work. My client meetings went well, I shot a few photos, and while I was having lunch, I bumped into and chatted with friends like the good old days. Exactly like the good old days. Eerily like the good old days.
Everywhere I went on Friday, I saw almost no sign of social distancing that a small business owner hadn’t initiated. In one restaurant I visited, customers stood in line close to one another. People in a nearby retail store shopped without masks. As I drove by a golf course, at least twenty golfers were congregating near the 18th pin, slapping each other’s backs.
There are so many reasons not to practice social distancing. Masks are uncomfortable. It’s weird to stand six feet away from others. It’s hard to break habits of courtesy like shaking hands or holding the door for other people. You need to work. You think the whole thing got overblown. You’ve recovered from COVID-19 and assume you’re no longer contagious or can’t become reinfected. You’re lonely. You’re all of the above.
Just give me back the wheel and let me drive.
DRIVER’S ED
Even with the safety net of the provisional driver’s license, teenager drivers make deadly mistakes. According to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia Research Institute, 12.8% of all fatal car accidents in 2017 involved teen drivers.
There is no perfect system (as DOV critics will tell you), but the system can set acceptable standards for safety and check itself for compliance. Every provisionally licensed driver, for instance, is expected to abide by a set of driving restrictions until (s)he can be tested for skill competency. That means every teenager on the road has a license to cautiously practice their driving and a handbook from which to learn. Imagine how many more fatal car accidents there would be if no system was in place.
As a small business owner identified in Phase I to Open Texas, I have license to provisionally steer my business forward, and I have a handbook from the Governor himself. I’m also an expert driver when it comes to my business. As a Texas resident, however, Phase I gave me neither provisions nor clear expectations. I’ve got to tell you: it’s hard navigating a business through traffic like this. It’s not feasible to police the behavior of every reckless customer, but if you don’t try, you may be contributing to a fatality rate that will only become clear weeks from now.
Nearly 29 million people live in Texas, and every day we learn of more Texans who have not survived the coronavirus pandemic. But I believe more people — and more businesses — will survive if we all see ourselves as drivers-in-training. Mirrors? Check. Signal? Check. Mask? Check. Wash your hands for twenty seconds? Check.
Now check for traffic, and go forward like you don’t own the road.
each day there’s new information to process, and so i doodle on. here are a few focused on the economic QUANDARIES presented by covid-19. some doodles are more successful than others, but that’s mainly because I don’t really have a clue about tinder.
Blog story sources: “A Brief History of the American Driver’s License,” by Cerys Gruffyydd for Grounded Parents, January 2014 and teendriversource.org