genx joy: getting a driver's license!

Me and the Brownmobile.

​Today, let’s talk about the GenX joy of getting a driver’s license. If you enjoy this essay, please tell a friend, share it, and subscribe to 7080: GenX Pop on LinkedIn! Thanks.

According to Statista, via the Federal Highway Administration, the percentage of teens getting driver’s licenses today is significantly lower than that of Gen X when they were teens. In 1983, 46.2% of sixteen-year-olds had licenses; in 2018, only 25.6% did. In 1983, 80.4% of eighteen-year-olds got their licenses, while only 60.9% did in 2018. What’s happening?

Teenagers attribute this phenomenon to several issues. Ridesharing services like Lyft and Uber are available to them. Young people today are also more conscious of how their lifestyles impact the environment. Some teens cite anxiety as a reason they haven’t gotten their licenses, while others say they can connect with friends through social media and don’t need to see them in person. And, of course, the cost of auto insurance, maintaining a car, and fuel is more expensive today than it was in the eighties. According to TitleMax, the national average of gas prices in 1983 was $1.16 per gallon (equivalent to $3.40 in 2022). In 2022, actual prices were $4.90 per gallon.

In the 1980s, getting a driver’s license was a high point in the life of most teenagers. The day I got mine was one of the happiest days of my high school experience. It meant that I didn’t have to ride the school bus anymore, which meant I could escape the bullies on the bus.

Bullying on the bus was a problem. Two obnoxious bullies rode the bus on my route, making life miserable for every other student. All I wanted to do was mind my business and read a book on the ride home. It just wasn’t possible to do that because the bullies spent the entire ride teasing me, calling me names, touching me without my consent, and grabbing my stuff. It was worse for Jamie, who got into fights because they wouldn’t leave him alone. The bus driver did nothing to stop it. So, obtaining my driver’s license meant Jamie and I could escape the torment of the school commute.

Even though my family didn’t have much money, they scraped up enough funds to buy a used car for me. It was a five-year-old Buick Skylark. The color was brown with a tan interior. Jamie immediately named it the Brownmobile.

Of course, getting a car meant I had to run errands for the family. It was a small price to pay for the freedom of having a car. My best friend and I used the Brownmobile to cruise around the movie theater parking lot on Saturday nights. Hundreds of teenagers drove in circles before and after the movie, waving to each other and hollering out their open windows. I’m sure all kinds of illicit activities occurred when drivers pulled into the shadows behind the shopping center.

Jamie and I rode around the backroads on sunny weekends. Sometimes, we got into trouble on these excursions. Once, I drove down an unfamiliar valley road that turned out to be a tight dead end at a creek. I rammed the bumper into a hillside when I tried to turn around. Of course, my eagle-eyed father immediately spotted mud on the fender and fussed at me.

Another time, I forgot to put the gas cap back in place. I remembered it about five miles down the road and returned to the gas station to retrieve it. It lay next to a gas pump, flat as a pancake. Someone had driven over it. I freaked out because I knew my father would be mad at me for losing it. Jamie directed me to an auto parts store, where we found a substitute gas cap. Dad noticed the dupe and got angry anyway.

The car stayed home when I left for college, but I retrieved it as soon as I graduated. I drove the Brownmobile for several more years. Near the end, the fabric on the interior ceiling drooped, so I pinned it up with thumbtacks. The driver’s side window wouldn’t open or close with the handle, so I had to stand at the open door, put my hands on either side of the glass, and pull it up or push it down. A tape got stuck in the cassette player, and despite my best efforts, it remained there forever.

It finally broke down in the middle of the road as I left for work one morning. We had to push it out of the way of oncoming traffic. My uncle found a good used car for me to buy. It was a silver Toyota Celica with headlights that went up and down. One of my coworkers immediately backed into it so that one headlight always stayed up. It looked like it was winking.

I’m sad that the current generation of teenagers isn’t as interested in driving as my generation was. It was a chance to take on more adult responsibility and find a new level of independence.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go listen to “Sister Christian.”

Coming up next: The Brady Bunch/Partridge Family Death Match!