Life was undoubtedly very hard back in the old days. No convenience. You had to work on your farm during all the hours of daylight. It was difficult to get by. Lots of diseases.
After reading my Grandma Stella’s diary, though, I wish we were back in the horse and buggy days for several reasons. Life was harder, yes, but somewhat less complicated — more focused on getting by day to day.
I also really, really hate cars. Over the past five years, I have had more trouble with cars than I can remember ever having. If I have to drive very far or in the rain, I am literally shaking with fear that I’ll break down. The thing is, right now, my car seems OK. A while ago, when I went to pick up Sarah, I had to drive in the rain, which is something that is always scary to do in Atlanta, and the car was acting… funny. It didn’t act like it wanted to go, and the automatic transmission wasn’t shifting as smoothly as it usually does. So I tried not to hyperventilate.
I know, I know. I have AAA. I also don’t have money for the car to break down right now, but someone would probably help us if it came to that. Just the thought of breaking down one more time was giving me stomach cramps. So many things have gone wrong with the cars I’ve had over the past five years, almost always when I have one or more children with me, from flat tires to complete engine crapout. I shouldn’t be fazed by it anymore. But all that car trouble has only deepened my anxiety behind the wheel.
I wish I could just climb up into my buggy, grab the reins, and say “hyah.” I wish I didn’t really ever have to go more than a few miles from home so hoofing it (whether with a horse or without) wouldn’t be such a terrible outcome.
I know there are other problems I’d have to deal with if I had a horse, but sometimes I can’t help but think all these modern inventions have caused more stress and anxiety than they’re worth in terms of convenience. I somehow doubt my great-great-grandfather had palpitations and gripped the reins tightly if his horse, say, threw a shoe, or something. Maybe that’s why he lived into his 90’s. My damned car will send me to an early grave.
While I haven't had all the car trouble, I still have car anxiety. If it slips or doesn't seem like it is acting correctly, I panic. I know that there's not way I could fix anything on the darn thing. Cars. What an inconvenient convenience!
I also hate cars – despise them – and fought and fought not to have to buy one recently. I even looked into living in a large city so that public transportation offered an excuse not to buy a car. I'm always paranoid something will go wrong with the wheels and any burning smell – rubber, oil, wood fires along the road – sends me into a panic thinking it's the car. Cars, phones, and computers – all more hassle than they are really worth a lot of the times.