Welcome to What I Miss Most, a recurring column in which writers wax poetic about the things from home that they found themselves yearning for upon moving to NYC (or the things from NYC they craved upon moving away from it). For an archive of previous What I Miss Most columns, click here.
It occurs to me, after eight solid years in New York, that its world-class transportation system has an infantilizing effect upon a would-be driver. I’ve never had to change a tire here. I don't often check myself from drinking to excess, as it’s rarely necessary to get behind the wheel at the end of the night.
The city streets, clogged with cars, are just narrow veins of anemic asphalt in the compact grid. Drivers are frustrated, hemmed in on all sides. No autonomy, no chance for speedy thrill.
NYC’s streets are nothing like the multi-lane roads of the outlands, despite being poured from identical stuff.